Blurry By Arvilla Fee

Funny how your face

looked so much better

in the dim light of the bar

after a couple of shots

funneled their way 

through my esophagus,

funny how comical 

you were—how clever,

your voice a shade louder

than the clink of beer mugs

and Bennie and the Jets

blaring from the jukebox

but in the harsh slant,

of the mid-morning sun,

I could see your frown lines,

the hardness of your gray eyes

as you stared hawkishly

at my own imperfections

and just like that

you weren’t comical 

or clever,

your head just a tin can

with one loose marble,

and me

with bad taste in men.

Arvilla Fee lives in Dayton, Ohio, teaches English for Clark State College, and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, Mudlark, Remington Review, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Her third book, Mosaic: A Million Little Pieces is due to be released this December. Arvilla loves writing, photography and traveling and never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse). Arvilla’s favorite quote in the whole word is: "It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” ~ Henry David Thoreau. To learn more, visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com/