In the Daily Grind Café

Between yawns, I’m looking down

at the white counter

as if at a screen


that shows a cup of coffee,

a silver spoon,

and this leather


case that has ridden

in my pockets for years.

Now darkened in color


it has me suddenly viewing

footage almost forgotten,

Johnny saying, Look,


look at that blond . . . You blind

or what? Offering me

his wire-rimmed specs,


the power just right

to focus the blond

who was sadly beautiful


because now I could see.

How simple—just

a smooth leather sleeve,


stitches on the bottom

and side no longer white,

cracked on the fold and


Dr. David Ginsberg

Optometrist

86 State Street

New London, Conn.


himself now gone with the gold

print of his name

but not out of focus.


In owlish glasses of his own,

after eye charts and fitting,

his crackly voice magnified


in this small room: Peter,

you’ve been missing so much—

Welcome back to the world.