divined perfection

[plural]

I am seven
I sit in a bar
at the
jefferson hotel
alone
my short legs
dangle from
the bar stool
floating above
the burnished brass rail

a cracked and
wizened face
smiles from
behind the bar
tufts of white hair
burst wildly
from the sides of his head

tiny hands
clinging
to velvet stool
anticipating

perfection

and
in short order
it arrives

a sliver of a spoon
a smile breaking
accross my face
growing larger
reflecting
in the mirrored dish

the treasure cupped
gently in my hands
peering within
with reverence

two small
perfectly coifed
shells of lemon
sorbet

graced only with
three small mint leaves

divine perfection?
perhaps darling
it could be so

although

divine perfection
is always meant
for two

Comments

[crunchytadpole.livejournal.com]

I love this one!!