Staring out the kitchen window
getting ready to install a contact lens
because someone was using the bathroom, I
forgot about the contact lens, getting
lost in reverie among the spindly, tall
weeds in a field surrounding grain silos
with the morning sun brightening the world, when
suddenly, a woman’s voice wafted up from
the depths of the earth saying,
“Tam! Are the potatoes boiling yet?”
Startled, I looked around for the voice, then remembered
where I was, in a house with a basement,
sharing it temporarily with friends, and I
glanced over at the stove, where a large red
pot stood with a lid, no bubbling over
then realized I still rubbed a contact lens between my fingers
“I don’t know, can’t check, let me put my contact in first!”
“Okay!” drifted the voice from below
TR
