Blind on the Highway of Life: A Poem
As I was helping a blind man across a street
how could I ever forget that grateful smile
just for a brief moment our eyes would meet
that empty look staying with me for quite a while.
Why did it remind me of so many eyes I've seen
looking but not seeing with a blindness of their own
somewhat reminding me of where I have been
appearing and acting like that blind man's clone.
Suddenly a whole bunch of white canes and a ball
like in a weird and surreal polo game
appeared in my mind as I observed us all
pretending to compete under an Olympic Flame.
Not seeing a tree while impressed with a wood
we live our life-story instead of this hour
blinded by winning and failure more than we should
forever in a search of an ivory tower.
Whenever I see folks with dark glasses
I wonder if their eyes are hiding from the sun
or they are hiding their incompetent asses
from someone observing and having fun.