After the optician's revelation

I realise now
that I cannot see
in three dimensions -
the world's depths render
into stage flats.
Driving is difficult.

I realise now
that I cannot see
in two dimensions -
surfaces and images stretch
into flickering lines.
Art is disappointing.

I realise now
that I cannot see
in one dimension -
lines and threads resolve
into points.
Sewing is beyond me.

I realise now
that I cannot see
in four dimensions -
story arcs ground themselves
bundled into a promiscuity of places, of only this second.
Staying still won't happen
now.