Night eye 4/16/03
Funny little eye, with two.
Every night you stare at me
from your sunless quarters;
You’re floating in a sea of black coffee
if you ask me.
I would stare too, with a similar view,
not from a sea of black coffee, mind you:
the view straight up my nostrils,
getting bigger and bigger
as I draw up the mug
would not be so pleasant;
but beholding the world
in such panorama
melding scrapers and bunkers
into one flat horizon.
Funny little eye, with two.
Every night you stare at me
from your sunless quarters.
You should have a partner
but he’s been in hiding
behind a black patch
after young Jimmy Spiding,
one summer night,
got so mad at his mama
threw a rock and put it out.
If only I could pluck one out
and hold it at arm’s length
so you would have two to look through,
but I won’t.
I’ll just sit on this bench
looking up at your face
and down at your twin
glaring off of the sea
and think to myself
how fun it would be
to write a short poem
of the bright night eye
and how I feel
when he glances at me.
-Matthew Harri
(What is the “night eye?” click here)
