my one-eyed day
begins in Munich 
with bacon and scrambled eggs
in a business class lounge
because the ticket calls for it
and poetry doesn’t have to be poor
or accessible or full of insight
the crass
the mainstream
the poor privileged
deserve their voice too
properly plural
don’t they



my one-eyed day
ends in Zurich 
with a latte in a big blue cup
in a cafe called kweer 
because my aching vision is tired
and woman-watching need not oppress
or be exploitative
the gaze
deserves its 
unenlightened moment
even if we dare not admit it
and will hide this away 
from censors
prone to cancel