Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Hand Me My Sunglasses, Won't You?

Hand me my sunglasses, won’t you?
I know the sun has set
but can’t you see the moon’s
hurting my eyes?  so bright it hangs
now in the sky I can scarce look
forward for fear of seared retinas
and I am the one driving, you know?

Hand me my sunglasses, won’t you?
The moon’s burning my eyes –
what right has the moon to sear
itself upon my retinas like it’s some
kin or other to the sun?  Can you
explain that to me?

Hand me my sunglasses, won’t you?
They’re in my purse . . . I need them.
Yes, I drive with sunglasses in the dark
Don’t you?

Hand me my sunglasses, won’t you?
I need to turn down this world just
a notch or two – the moon’s just too
bright tonight – I’m scared it can
see into my soul

Hand me my sunglasses, won’t you?

Every traveler needs a co-pilot
a fellow traveler on life’s road
one who can toss me a cigarette
out of my raincoat pocket with
nary a glance or thought – two
moving as one – Michigan’s never
been my dream, but so many other
places fade into unreality in the rear-
view mirror as the moon before me
blinds me to all that’s left behind
in the darkness on the road traveled
or less so – it really doesn’t matter
when there’s someone to hand me
my sunglasses and care about my
explanation – who needs sunglasses
in the dark?  It’s the question begging
to be asked as I look to my right and
remember again that I am alone

*Hats off to Simon & Garfunkel.  Bonus points if you get the reference (well, if there're no bonus points, at least there's an implicit admission of a certain age, eh?).

No comments:

Post a Comment