they call them ‘progressive lenses’
but they are quite the opposite
a new view into my decline
coke bottles affixed to your face
fish-eyes as the world moves past
total distortion
the descent of stairs transformed
into a dangerous proposition
the occasional curb
now treacherous
yet they are my favorite
allowing me to drive,
scan a measuring tape,
and read medicine dosages
with only slight delays
my boon companion
until I trip into my grave
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