my eyes are open

all day - open
the pollen lifting over the river
the bright glint off the backs of fenders
the bottoms of the glasses i raise to the shelves
my own changing face and its eyes
looking open enough

but i saw nothing today
the life before me flat
as the front page
uncompelling.
ready for pulp.

i saw not one thing. all the visible
morning day evening night
until there - the big dipper
spilled night all over us and onto the ground
around us
as we said goodbye
only then

and then for just a moment
and the air moved (good night)
(travel safe) (did you get the book) (i love you)
covered in night
was i not
groping
as good as blind