The perfect trees with streamlined leaves,
The perfect hills, with daffodils,
A perfect view with an orange hue,
Just the perfect life with a comely wife.
And then I stretched the rubber from either side.
What seemed perfect dissipated into elongated nonsense.
The leaves became branches,
The orange got jaundiced,
And my wife grew fat.
And yet, I was happier.
Because I had stretched it to the limit.
This is perfection for me.