The Optician

The optician will get me some day
Her work is all too inevitable
My eyes will give up on the fray
The muscles will go like a catapult
The edges of far away letters will melt
Shadows will soften, faces decay
I won't be able to fathom it all

The optician will have me some day
She'll close in soon, like Bunuel's razor
Only my keenness of sense delays her
Only my genes keep her at bay
While all her thirst keeps me on edge
Solemn promise, bloody pledge
Destiny no moon can sway

She'll have me. I'm easy prey
for her optometrical array
I fear and love that medical arsenal
The lenses, charts, the frame display
Is my vision lost or partial
Bring your fingers near my lashes
once more. Focus comes in flashes

The optician will want me some day
She's lonely with those other eyes
She lusts after my kestrel grey
She closes up, she sits at home
Thinks of eyes that rove and roam
Feeds the cats, puts things away
Blows across her coffee, cries