“It’s My Best Lens Lost!”*


(mARCH 18, 2019)

lost lens forces spring’s

last full cleaning – or as much\

as i will allow*

*(The left lens of my prized polarized sunglasses popped out as I reached way back under a folding diningroom table – I heard the tinkle as it touched still polished hardwood and the rebounding tinks and gles before it found purchase among what I knew I’d not find that night. Two nights later finally I ran a blind hand down opposite the table and hiding flush to a box of books was the little rascal. I was saving the famous (sans ethnic sideshow) landmine detector device: stomping around baretoot with fingers in each ear to corral the explosion for a last-ditch effort. I mean, seriously, who would stoop to high-intensive industrial-strength portable light devices? – I had mistyped landmine in the above piece as “landmind” and somehow I believe the reader will be short shrifted should I have left that notice out of this ramble.)

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