I've got 20/20 vision and eyes as clear as anything, but

your thick-lensed love makes me set my own sights

on the bend of light as it

bounces off your multicolored irises,

and the way the curve of your cheekbone

is transposed half a centimeter by the curvature of glass

when I see you at an angle through

the rosy haze of my own heady affections,

and the condensation of our mingled humid breaths

fogging up your glasses

and making you curse,

and I will lift away your glasses,

set them carefully to the side,

and lean in close enough that

even with your dismal focal length

we see each other

clearly.