sky is crying
damp traces of today
streaks clouding my vision.
my own heat fogs the
lenses as i
peel them back
to reveal a blurred
clarity all my own.

sky is clearing
but my vision still blurred.
i promise, knowing i won't,
and that doctor will never hold me
down in that chair, vinyl cutting harsh
into my back.

sky cleared, vision cleared, finger tarnished
and the blur is retreated to the fringes.
my phone rings - purr in the too-tight
back pocket -
the polish needed
and received.
and answered call chases all my qualms.