“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


i got this imperfection stuff down to an art

weeds outside the doctor's office.

i was wondering about imperfection,
walking back to the jeep,
wondering when we really accept it
and how far is too far,
cause all of us who say we accept it still want to be thinner
look younger
have perfect skin
pedicures manicures pink toenails,
and we think if we had a white mac
our stories would be better,
would be perfect and we would be famous
and someone would come take pictures of our glorious selves
in front of that computer
and our desk would have a vase of sunflowers or blue hydrangeas,
madonna notwithstanding cause she is the material girl, not us,
and our windows would look out over fields of autumn,
and that person would ask us questions for which we had the perfect answers.
other people,
still worried about that perfection nonsense,
would sigh -
it seems important somehow that they would sigh -
and wish they were us,
that they led our lives,
those lives we lead embracing imperfection,
those lives we lead saying be yourself,
you are fabulous,
and we mean it, we really do, you are fabulous,
and we are imperfect,
and i was thinking about all that,
my mind's finger almost touching the point i was reaching for,
when i reached the curb and in fumbling for my keys i lost it.
lost that perfect thought.

insert smirk right here as life teaches me a lesson.

my jeep is piled with mail from my mother's house,
bags of clothes to go to goodwill,
a blue floatie still inflated,
bobbing around in the back seat where it's been for months,
a roll of paper towels, kleenex, a couple of styrofoam cups,
an antique doll's head hidden under something behind the driver's seat,
where it's been since march,
but no camera.
just the one on my phone.

i was enchanted with the weeds
and the shadow of my hands as i walked behind them,
my shadow their sun.
totally absolutely imperfect.




  1. This perfect imperfection is what we all should strive for.

  2. the list goes on and we can never attain it... so imperfection is my right hand ..just always there ...

    thanks for this .. for the weeds and the mention of everything in your jeep...love to you from down the road

  3. oh yeah. i've been bear-hugging my own imperfection all week.
    it all comes down to forgiveness. doesn't it?

    weeds are actually the flowers that grow where they belong.


  4. so life is inperfectly perfect or is it perfect in it's inperfectness?

  5. come stand with me next to a sink full of 4 day old dishes ans marvel at the chunks of bark in the trunk of my car. they are evidently a permanent fixture, along with the jumper cables.

    perfection is exhausting. like you, i prefer the shadows and the weeds.

  6. I am laughing at me-in-you, all the pictures we have in our heads, & the: Oopsie!!
    Life is an imperfect Master of perfection, yes?

  7. Oh my god I love you.

    Seriously, I was just typing out the words *this is so perfect* when I stopped myself and hit the delete key, rewinding my words...laughing at this perfect post of imperfection....and you know what, I'm going to type it again...
    it's perfect.


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