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even the Mona Lisa isn’t perfect
Don’t you love life’s little imperfections like when
two sheets of wallpaper overlap leaving an
unseemly seam, or when a pale green weed
peeks out from behind a begonia in an otherwise
perfect garden, or an unbuttoned button, or dialing
the wrong number hearing that so predictable
irritated voice on the other end, or a cliché or an
oxymoron or a sentence made crooked and
lopsided by a nice fat split infinitive (it was fun
seeing the cringe on Professor K’s pasty face
when I used one in class that time), or a shock of
hair sticking down in front of a beautiful woman’s
glistening brown eyes. Imperfections remind us
that we are only human, after all, and that God
still has some work to do.
SPIDER’S SILK
sometimes the sunlight catches
this long strand of nearly invisible
spider's silk stretching
like a delicate diaphanous golden hair
across my windshield
and it twirls and twists and flashes
distracting me but I'm leaving it there
because it's pretty
***
I’m a Marketing Communications Manager for a tiny division of a large company, and man, going into an office every day can be excruciating. The stuffy air, the florescent lights are killing me. Thankfully I can retire in 15 or 20 years.
But I still think that somehow I’ve got to get myself on some boat collecting phytoplankton, or into the hills of Montana searching for TRex bones. Then again maybe I simply should’ve stayed on Northfield Avenue where I belong and learned to fix cars like my Daddy did.
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