through the glasses darkly

the girl
at the optometrist office
says,
they look good on you.
the black
framed
clark kent glasses.
shop glasses, thick
and wide
in order to protect my
eyes from flying
pieces of metal or
wood as I make an ashtray
or a pot holder
in 7th grade
shop class.
no, I tell her. I need
something more
glamorous,
something that makes
a statement
about who I am.
ahh, she says,
I have just the pair for
you, taking out
a squared pair of spectacles
a la ben franklin,
or the lead singer in
the Kinks.
no, I tell, looking at
myself in the mirrors
that stretch along the wall,
they don't fit my face.
she nods, agreeing
that my head is more egg
shaped.
after an hour or so, she
gives up on me
and goes over to an old
lady
who knows exactly what she
wants.
I keep trying pair after
pair trying to find
the real me, finally settling
on a pair that I
once saw
Elton john wear,
with flamingos on the frames.