Sunglasses

The silver dollar clinked
against the bottom of the wishing well.
And I wished for a way
behind your honey-glazed smile
And smoky sunglasses.
But your shaded eyes
continued to keep me from knowing
If you were looking at me
or if your eyes were cast down.
And when I returned
to the moss covered wishing well
it was empty.
And I’m darker through sunglasses
than I am when the walls come down.