Prose: Perfection

I can see perfection, you know?
I see it, though it can be hard to find.
It’s in the small things: an amazing guitar solo,
One phrase from one song that changes your life,
The flawless moves, flowing and exact, of your favorite dancer.
It’s in a baby’s laugh, or its sleeping breath.
In the opening riff of your favorite song.
It’s in the moment you lay your head down and smile,
You got the cool side of the pillow.
Like the smell of a lover’s perfume,
It lingers there long after she may be gone.
Perfection’s in a family dinner; everyone is gathered ‘round,
All the aromas floating together.
And you walk in the room and take that first sniff.
That’s where it is-where you’ll find it.
There it is, in that seemingly insignificant piece of art.
The one you love so much for whatever reason.
Perfection is in that one moment at a concert
Where the band is on the stage at whatever part
In that one song, and that’s when you feel it,
The band is speaking directly to you, the words are flowing
Through your veins, the music is taking you outside yourself.
Tears are forming in your eyes though you are
Hesitant to let them fall lest someone see.
You don’t know what’s happening, just that it is.
And you look around and see more glistening eyes
And bodies swaying to the music. Right then,
Right there you can say, “This is perfect.”
And then that moment is gone, the band is playing
Another song, you all act like it didn’t happen,
You want to keep it for yourself, but you all
Know just by that wordless look, that unspoken nod,
That moment did happen, and it was perfect.
It is there in your first car, old and rusted.
But that doesn’t matter, its perfect because it is yours.
It’s there in Love, though you absolutely hate the word.
For that short time you have with her, every single
Minute of every day, every dance or glance or smile,
It’s all perfect.