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.