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The perfect breakfast: Papaya wedges, eggs scrambled with salsa and a dash chili powder, chee bikits, and java that soaks thru wall of your mouth and causes wave of sensation thru your face before you even swallow.
The perfect date: One whereas its essense is supported primarily by the others presense. What is done and where is visited is merely environment, scenery.
The perfect kiss: The anticipated one, the one fueled by mutual hope, and lingered by satedness and the full body sigh of relief, that it happenned.
The perfect argument: ends in a tackling embrace, to shut them up.
The perfect man/woman: Is into who you are, not their plan for who you should be.
The perfect shoe: The one that puts pride in your step, actually affects your confidence level.
The perfect movie: theater;special effects. home;ever guessing evasive plot, the one that makes you slap you forehead when it reveals itself.
The perfect flower: a rain filled teacup Magnolia blossom, natures cologne.
The perfect time of day: The suns last throw of color as it dips below the horizon.
The perfect mood: Acceptance.
The perfect dream: One that is explainable. I dream of ppl and places I have never seen, yet the scenery is somehow familiar and the characters know who I am.
The perfect drink: The crispness of a cold beer when adrift on the bay, the face numbing effects of a perfect rum and coke, the way that cold water seems to travel thru directly into your viens when you really need it, you feel you whole body react.
The perfect name: Thats an adjustable perception. Who would have thought Engelbert Humperdink was cool name, until you saw just how cool he was.
The perfect drug: Playing onstage. There is no substitute for a large crowd being moved by what is emanating from you on the spot, and giving that electricity back.
