I thought I was a little less imperfect

I thought I was a little less imperfect.
My imperfection took me by surprise.
Surprise so great, I heard myself exclaim:
Oh, what? I did this? Really, I?

Imperfection isn’t quite so obvious when you’re alone.
There’s no-one to consult,
no need to seek a compromise.
Imperfection doesn’t get so many opportunities to manifest itself
when one’s actions aren’t scrutinised.

I thought you were a little less impatient.
Patience’s kind.
Patience wouldn’t find it hard to tolerate my imperfection.
Patience would entail some waiting.
It would have you walking by my side
and not ahead of me,
as if you were trying to escape
in the inescapable maze of loneliness.


Como – Milan, July 2019

Photo: Perfection in Lugano, Switzerland