the lost and unfound

the box of glasses
under
the counter of the lost
and found
is full.
all frames, all lenses
of any
and every size,
all left behind
under seats
in the dark
as the movie patron
stretched
to rise,
not hearing in the clamor
of the closing
music, the shuffling
of shoes
and coats,
their specs hitting
the slanted
rugged floor.
now they sit entangled
with the others,
everyone's remedy
for blurred vision,
but not yours.