perfection

during my former life,
when i was a plastic surgeon
for the rich and want to
be famous on connecticut
avenue in northwest, i used
to love my work. i would
sometimes sit on the park
bench by the zoo and watch
the people passing by,
examining their faces from
afar. that nose, i could
fix that, those bags under
the eyes, gone with a mere
slice of my razor sharp
scalpel, the paunch on
that otherwise slender woman,
a few suction treaments
and she'll be in a size
two the next morning. i
could vaccuum out those
scones in a heartbeat. and
that man with that huge
bump on his forehead,
bring him in, lay him
down and watch it go away.
voila. sometimes i'd
wander over to the zoo,
but there was nothing
i could do about them,
the animals behind bars
and glass, there was nothing
that i wanted to do, they,
yes they were perfect.