Blind Side

The light turned green
a white cane appeared
in my periphery I
slammed my foot
and the blind man
backed to the curb.
Did he sense some
subtle shift of engine sound
an altered emission taste on 
the tongue?

I drive wary at dark and I'm wrong when
I say lights blind me, my sight but only
confused - a shimmer of images. 

To not
see. 
Distinguish day from night by
the weather of his skin. A humble
scent. These
words, read aloud 
only for him. 

A
caterwaul of daily 
epics 
from which 
one voice 
shall rise
in acclamation. 

Almost hit a blind man. Spent the rest of my dri­ve try­ing to em­pathize with what blind­ness re­al­ly means, man. Thought I’d give the blind some props and rec­og­nize my own priv­i­lege as a sight­ed per­son.

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