Perfect

I had a dream last night. This is the dream.

Incidentally, because I wrote it while I was still half sleep, did not proof read, and then fell back asleep, I had forgotten about it, and the fact I wrote it, until much later on, I found it. Typos and incomplete thoughts, all intact.

Perfect
I sometimes just want to sit in a
Perfect diner
Playing a perfect old song
With a perfect shining quarter
Feeding a perfectly worn juke box

Eating perfectly golden fries
In a perfectly shaped booth
Sitting perfectly still
Holding your perfectly shaped ringless hand

Tell you a perfect old tale
About a perfect Sunday morning
There I packed a perfect tiny bag
Left a perfect life

"But this is perfect," you’d say
"Perfect is an overused word"
I reply in a perfect monotone
In my perfect smile

You then take a sip
Of the perfectly over brewed coffee
Holding me perfectly tight

In your perfectly quiet voice
Whispering into my ears
"You and I are perfect
Just the way we are"

And that moment
Feels perfectly alright