The Book Life

4.21 | April 22, 2010

I won’t lie, I’m aiming
for perfection. If the sky
fell or the earth
I know it wouldn’t matter, the matching up,
but I want all of the pieces
to fit together
like they were manufactured
for nothing else.

I was made for this.
But you were made for that.

I was made for this and you were made for that, and the fit,
it is not perfect; the fit is not
even close. But I’m still sitting here
across the table, maybe waiting
for the sky to fall, for the earth to
open, for the lack of perfection
to not matter.

[PROMPT: Write about perfection, flaws in yourself or in nature, how you feel about being imperfect or perfect.]


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