optometry

all the little boys 
want to be fighter pilots.

they take their green nets 
& stand in the yard 
waiting for a falcon 
or a hornet plane 
to fly over.

i watch them from 
the kitchen window
& i remind them that 
they will all need to
have 20/20 vision 
if they want to 
have any hope of flying
for the army.

the optometrists
arrive & set up
shop in the living room,

great metal
eye contraptions &
charts with letters
that get smaller & smaller
until they fade into 
abstraction, 

i ask what the point
of such tiny letters 
are & the optometrists 
speak in unison, they
say that the most
minute letters are actually
types of fighter planes.

i squint & see the osprey 
& the mustang-- their
propellers moving on the poster.

the optometrists 
all have only one eye
between them & it blinks
which lets me know 
i should bring the boys inside.

opening all the windows on 
the second floor, they crawl 
inside with their dirty knees
& plastic army men 
in their teeth.

they have no slept for
days, trying to catch just
one plane.

i ruffle their hair 
even though i really
want to pick them up
& tell them that they should
be boys for a little bit longer.

the boys punch each other
in line to get their eyes checked.
i think they do this out
of love for each other.

the optometrists tell
boy after boy that their 
vision isn't perfect but that
they could still maybe
be a commercial pilot.

this causes them to 
grow up instantly,
not teenage boys, but old boys,
smoking pipes in corduroys 

some of them don't take
it as well & they just disappear
into a pile of sand.

i sweep it onto the porch.

only one boy's vision was
good enough & the optometrists
took him with them,
they had brought a uniform
along, helmet & all 

i tried to ruffle his hair 
before they left but he hissed.

the old boys went back
out into the yard again
with their nets.

i wanted to ask them to
check my own vision
but i was too afraid.