POETRY
Twenty-Twenty
by Carol E. Ayer

That November he invited me over,
he of the velvet hair and ocean eyes.
He removed my glasses, told me
he fancied himself
a seer into the human heart.

He asked about the glasses
saying he did not believe in coincidence —
that my going near-sighted at the time of my parents' divorce
had deeper meaning than I could know

Buoyed by his interest, I asked
why, then, did my eyes not correct years later
when I shared my parents' vision?

he said — perhaps you still prefer not to see

In hindsight I believe him right
for when I put my glasses back on,
his hair was beginning to thin
those eyes were brown behind tinted lenses
and he was already looking past my gaze
for someone new to see