Ways of Looking (Draft 1- for John Ashbery, if he'd have it)

Like the difference between
What we see through
Prescription glass,
Deceitful clarity.
You see the blades of grass.
I see phantom mountains.

'What a shame', she sighed,
'The way you look, you'd think you'd
Be less principled'
Her sequins shrugged, the party
Glasses chattered, holding half-full guests.

I can kill two stone-throwers
With one bird (or look).

We used to see each other
You held my gaze and hand.
Were held in high regard.
Now you don't look the same.
Now you don't look my way
So you don't see.

Like the difference between
The way the day looks
At the pink-brushed dawn
The ink-spill trees
With spindle- fingered stretches
And how it changes
Into bright grey morning
The gulls on chimney pots
Our eyes open.