This morning has been busy with reading, research, a long walk and a few other things which delayed my writing today’s poem until the afternoon. Part of my research was in the field of naturism and the rest was to do with a return to walking the Camino at some point this late summer – early autumn. As I walked, I thought of the word “outliers” and “deviants” in terms of the power of the collective on the individual. And it is this that I reflect upon in today’s poem.
~ ~ ~
The Perfect Man
“I love him,” she said,
“He’s the perfect man.”
They made a perfect couple
in the eyes of the world.
Time worked and the shiny
image began to fray revealing
imperfections of body and mind.
“He’s not the man I married,”
she complained to any who listened.
But still they united to portray
to all the myth that all was well.
He squirmed, unable to be the man
she needed, squirmed with guilt
seeing her eyes on his folds
and graying hair was proof
that he was not perfect anymore.
He knew he was never perfect
that he had always worked hard
to reflect what she needed
to get what he needed
a work that had taken him
further and further from the truth
of whoever existed in his depths.
Together they collaborated
to carve out a compromise
as a frayed perfect couple
gracefully aged, perfect couple
grudging accepting the loss
of a perfect woman and man.
2014 04 15