At last night’s dinner party,
we laughed around the unlit fireplace,
and dizzy from after-dinner drinks,
talked about the first time we saw
something — opened our eyes.
I never listened to the answers,
but dazed, contented, and buzzing,
from amber-colored brandy,
looked out the window — then crash !
“What was that?”
A heavy, white globe rolled across the red carpet —
The professor palmed it, laughing
— savored the weight and smoothness of it, then
pulled up the pane of the adjacent window,
tossed the baseball back to the boys on the street.
“Just like that,” he said.
“Sight.” – bem
heartbreak and cigarettes 