dollar store glasses

it was always fishtank season. i talked to our pennies 
until they they grew papery wings. fly away.
as a kid i saw the world like a monet painting.
bud & blurr & blossom. running through
a field of scissors & emerging with my skin
cut into ribbons. i felt every cough brambles made.
stroked moss on backs of trees. all fours. 
closed my eyes & tried to meditate but instead
gossiped with butterflies. after the woods,
my brother & i would go to dollar tree to try to see clearly.
put reading glasses on & squinted at plastic statues
of parrots & pirates. we never purchased a pair. 

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