Blind

Click
Click
Sliding plastic ball
against the tiled floor.

I look up to see your brilliantly worn face.
I look down out of shame of my gawking ways.

Shhh
Shhh
Finger tips slide
against the rust colored wall.

From the corner of my vision I see you find your destination.
You lower yourself to the floor—waiting for . . .

I stare again.
But what is the shame?
You can’t see anyways.

Your sunglasses are not used
to shield your fragile eyes from light—
no, their sole purpose is to
hide
the sheet of blankness
that resides in those globes.

I cry.

How is it you stole
the blinders I voluntarily put on?