the eye doctor

my eye doctor
gives me the bad news.
he's moving
back to new jersey to start
his own practice
and make some real money.
a tear
wells up in my
good eye.
but what about us, I ask
him.
us? he says.
asking me to read the
second line
from the top
on the chart against
the wall.
there is no us, he says.
he takes a bite of a large
pastrami sandwich
he pulls out of his lab coat.
read, he says,
I don't have all day.
a e o p, i say,
squinting. the last
letter
might be a w
or an m.
good. he says. good
enough. he wipes some
mustard off his chin.
here's some eye drops
and avoid
heavy lifting, bending
your head,
or wild dancing.
he tapes a new clear
plastic patch over my
eye.
do you have anything in
a different color?
I ask.
no, he says. get out here.
here take this pickle as
a parting gift.
next.