The glasses I got are great,
It the thing is,
when I put on each new pair,
I turn into an entirely new person.

With the rimless titanium set,
I transform into Egon Terrarium,
a Guatemalan Numbers runner from the ‘40s
who lives in El Paso.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing here and now
so everything is really up in the air.

The golden granny glasses turn me into John Lennon (no surprise), but it’s 1980 Johnny L., right after the shooting.
I’m all bloody and hurt in my head,
and I’m wondering where Yoko is.
“Oh Yoko!” I shout. “Turn me on, dead man!”
I tend not to put them on too often.

Then there’re the shades, after which I become the Terminator, letting folks know, “I’ll be Bach,”
but never bringing up any other classicist whatsoever.
Since I never come back with firearms,
my returns are always anticlimactic.

These glasses seemed better when I thought they would just improve my vision, not my personality.
I’m thinking I may want my money back.