04/09/20 Perfect Two

We all deserve our heaven

and hell,

I guess –

what am I building?

It’s all,

false starts,

celebrations,

a company of ghosts

for my personal closet,

forget it;

ego,

shame,

a good hearted attempt

at a breakfast sandwich,

and other irregularly sized bits of what I can.

What if the world won’t be

perfect?

I don’t mean the hemlock

of utopia,

the amphetamine thesis of an

academic dream,

but perfect…

like peace

for the moment,

times 1000;

and a knowing in the blood

that it will remain.

What if this is as close

as we ever really come

To touching –

a note in the summer,

longing,

And a postmark in rain.