The flaws in his appearance

At uni a blind boy I knew recognised me by voice

in the dull brown-carpeted corridors of our residential college.

He could see vague shapes and shadows, nebulous, numinous movement,

carried his soup carefully, nose to the steaming surface to the nearest table

 

and ate hunched over. Once, I surprised him before the mirror

in the toilets wearing thick square glasses straining to see his reflection

and he whipped them off and pocketed them so quickly

that it must have seemed when he turned to leave

 

he had executed his sleight of hand flawlessly.

Later having beers in our respective fogs,

the light on me and him like anyone, I never spoke of it

but wondered was it so quick the turning for the door,

 

the lowered shoulder hurry that he never knew it was me

who had caught him looking for the flaws in his appearance?

 

 

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