I'm learning to love my smile.
So wide, people flinch,
Not a snarl, but so many teeth,
A little crooked.
But perfection would make us gods.

So I learn to love imperfection,
In everyone.
A regrettable haircut,
Toes too long,
A bone that never healed straight,
A too-loud-laugh,
An awkward gait
(To match the slouch, of course.)
I see it and it's perfect.

No pattern, no plan.
Who knew?
Things so true, so new,
It's all coming, and I'm close to understanding
That understanding is unnecessary.