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I can recall I didn’t think much of the poem.
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In the poem she talked about what she had felt at the time, about what went through her mind as he touched her nose and lips. In the poem she recalled his fingers and the way they had moved around over her face. When we first started going out together, she showed me the poem. She wrote a poem or two every year, usually after something really important had happened to her. She told me he ran his fingers over every part of her face, her nose-even her neck! She never forgot it. On her last day in the office, the blind man asked if he could touch her face. They’d become good friends, my wife and the blind man. She helped him organize his little office in the county social service department. She read stuff to him, case studies, reports, that sort of thing. She’d worked with this blind man all summer. She phoned and went over, was hired on the spot. She’d seen something in the paper: Help Wanted- Reading for Blind Man, and a telephone number. But she was in love with the guy, and he was in love with her, etc. The man she was going to marry at the end of the summer was in officer’s training school.He didn’t have any money,either. That summer in Seattle she had needed a job. A blind man in my house was not something I looked forward to. Sometimes they were led by seeing-eye dogs. In movies, the blind moved slowly and never laughed. My idea of blindness came from the movies. They made tapes and mailed them back and forth. But she and the blind man had kept in touch.
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She hadn’t seen him since she worked for him one summer in Seattle ten years ago. He would come by train, a fivehour trip, and my wife would meet him at the station. So he was visiting the dead wife’s relatives in Connecticut. THIS BLIND MAN, AN OLD FRIEND OF MY WIFE’S, HE was on his way to spend the night.
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