Pupils
The woman at the opticians,
who takes me into her dark room
for intimate transactions,
is exquisite - fine-featured,
slow to smile, elegant of hand
and hip. She shines her light
and herself deep into my eyes.
saying ‘you have small pupils’!
(My lack of success with women
explained by yet another reason!)
I begin a sly campaign
to survey her pupils’ fluctuation -
now large in the dark, now less
in the well-lit corridor, smallest
out in the public space where frames
are chosen at great expense
to enhance one's chances
of glamorous enchantment.
She’s put on spectacles herself,
as if her looks need some enhancement.
Fair girl, unframed is best. Fair
young men, fair children - smile on.
Our eyes are all on you, as yours
are on each other. We were young once,
though scarcely knew it. Old now, leaning
back - yearning back - at our sunset hour
it dawns on us: Beauty is youth, youth
beauty, - that is all we know on earth.
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