Poem For A Truculent Optometrist Poem by David Kowalczyk

His eyes are full
of wandering demons.
His lips are poisonous snakes.
His hair is red, although
it once was brown.


His life consists of the
slow, constant dimming
of the heart, and the
relentless loss of play.


More angry than hungry,
he is gnawing on a plastic fork.
The voices inside him
begin to chatter once again.


'I hope you find what you
are searching for, ' is all they
ever say. He shivers with disgust.


He remembers what his grandmother
told him as a child: 'That which we
love, we can never see.'


He gazes at the sky
towards a mysterious world
invisible to human eyes.


He gets up
from his chair, and walks
towards the strange and unseen world.
The voices fall silent.