pushing down aisles trolleys of trays
transparent as the lenses inside
all strengths of sphere and prism
the weakest
nearest twenty-twenty
slow vanish
curvatures on others
small smiles
scintillate under the focimeter
i step into the microscope
the strength reads
-0.00 -0.00
vacant cataracts
coating department next in the production line
raised on cinders
i spin
as lasers fire substances
make me ultraclear
impervious
tinting room bypassed
in despatch
scratch resistant
i'm pushing trolleys places
they rest in piles of plastic sheeting
into which I disappear
in reflection
my nose presses against the glass
all the light reveals
are two lumps beneath bedsheets
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