Visit to the optician
Are the colours duller now?
I don’t know, I see them more clearly.
But it’s in my eyes it first grows dim.
The book titles recede into the shelf
as if from now on they wanted to be on their own.
The dropped screw is hopelessly lost,
in the semi-dark under the bench. People
on the other hand, much clearer now.
People in my youth, vague shadows
with blurry contours at the edges. I must
have been looking for something else.
But that something can’t be seen at all now.
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