On the bedside table
in a wooden frame,
our family picture
from two summers ago
Each night
I stare
and stare
at the picture
but it never quite seems perfect to me.
I remove the blue hat
from my baby brother
and the bottle of sunscreen in my mother's hand.
I fix my sister's smile
and the wilting flower in her hair.
More and more things that
don't have a place in this picture.
For perfect is what I long for
as I make each fixture.
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