Organized by Collection
Learning to be PerfectI will not call you perfect.
More Like This
If I wanted perfect, I would drive into the city,
And spend my days at the museum,
Fawning over plaster faces.
I would hold a mannikin's hand,
And be delighted that it could not age and wither.
If I loved perfection, I would become a hoarder of wealth,
So that I might purchase diamonds and cut them into flawlessness.
I want the bumps and ridges left behind by scars.
I want screaming matches, accidentally tripping, and saying the wrong thing.
I want waking up because someone stole all of the blankets.
I want burnt home cooked meals and hand picked flowers on anniversaries.
And I want to go too fast and go too slow before we find our own pace.
I want to learn how you work,
What touches you like,
Where you are ticklish.
I want to stay up all night,
And sleep so late we miss tomorrow,
And everything about it that was important.
I want to accidentally break lightbulbs,
And drop dinner plates because we're carrying too much.
I want to make you tea