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An Ode to Ignorance

Blind without contacts,
sightless without glasses,
I stare at my bare chest
in the bathroom mirror
like a tottering drunk
ogling women at a bar.
My vision is fuzzy, all
lines and edges undefined,
but I stand firmly positive
that even with perfect vision,
a rock-hard washboard stomach
is indeed what I'd be seeing.
I couldn't say if I'm right,
mainly because I've never
really had the urge to
put on my glasses and see.


all works on this page Copyright 2002 by Paul Ryan

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