Double Vision
©July 23rd 2019
By Vijaya Sundaram
To see with double-vision
You need to fall headlong onto a pavement,
Or break through prejudice,
Or scroll through Facebook,
Or drive home in slashing rain.
I talk to a man sitting outside a CVS, a man
Who smiles, though you see his heartbreak,
When he tells you he’s Indian,
And a beggar – in Massachusetts!
The exclamation breaks through his words
And hangs, astounded, in the air.
His passport’s expired, he has no work.
There’s more history there,
But I’m a stranger, and it’s late,
So we speak, warmly, in Hindi.
He asks me if I have money.
I have none, and I tell him so, ruefully,
All bought with a card, I say,
Pointing to my bag of First Aid things.
No matter.
The conversation holds currency for him and me.
I ask him if he needs food, which I can give.
He says, ” I’m okay.”
So I bid him goodnight,
Tell him to take care.
We part, smiling.
Two humans, two Indians,
One hurrying home to comfort,
The other contemplating a world
That’s held together with safety pins
Outside the CVS in Porter Square.
The world’s precarious.
I wish I could set it right.
I drive home.
Double vision sometimes blinds.
—————————-