Just can't see
I’m not blind, he said. I’m not blind. I just can’t see.
And he laughed. Mr. Jones they called him, his blue eyes distance-staring, black head back holding the note to a laugh and laughing sending wrinkles down south his cheeks, his weather brown lips pulling up over chipped china teeth parting pealing laughs into the blind-bound world of Mr. Jones.
I grinned, but he didn’t see me so he said it again.
He said it again and I laughed.