by A. Poulin Jr.Eyes. Eyes. They are the eyes that feed on children in the sun, on brides, birds, grandmothers, stars. They're always there, loaded revolvers blinking too loudly at parties, shooting at smiling faces with more vengeance than crime or conscience. They capture our gestures, helpless in their sight, just to prove the past or present real. We were children, once; beneath this face there is another we have never wanted. Our bodies just keep going, developing reproductions of ourselves. Our souls are prisoners of eyes forever.
