On the way to an ophthalmology appointment, I encounter three blind men, blocks apart, each one walking in the opposite direction to me. I don’t believe in signs, but my mind slips on a patch of superstition, or something very much like it. Should I turn around, change course, or is there a nearby home for the blind that I’m unaware of? Do they augur my prognosis? Perhaps under surgery I’ll go blind and have to sue the anesthesiologist. Later at the hospital, the doctor apologizes for having to search for his glasses. “I can’t see a thing,” he says.

seeing what isn’t there yet new moon

Bio: Bob Lucky