Sitting inside the oven’s lower drawer
Between the cake molds and over the cookie sheets
His laughter is laced with bubbles.
No one knows why sitting inside a drawer is so fun.
I’m standing near the kitchen door
Admiring his imaginative game.

The toddler studies the situation closely
His raspberry lips contort in a pensive pout
Patches of gold hair stick out from the back of his head
Like a crown fashioned in a very different land
Where the cake molds and cookie sheets are lucky.

Lucky they have such a terribly beautiful king.

A perfect sentence must be beautiful and true
Surprising, and it must contain metaphysical dimension
But what if all sentences were perfect?
They would then cease to be original
Loose their surprise
And no longer be perfect.

How does a sentence achieve a state of perfectness?
Must it go to the gym five days a week,
Get straight A’s at school,
Play the piano,
And make all the girls swoon?

Maybe a sentence could cheat
Surround itself in a paragraph of clichés,
So it seems perfect by comparison.