Better

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia commons

“It's better on a clear day when you can really see the city,” she fretted as I watched, mesmerized.

White diaphanous clouds gilded by afternoon light hurtled through cables that suspend the Golden Gate Bridge.

I took her hand and asked, “Is it okay if this is good enough?”

In no mood to defend the good against the taskmasters of the perfect, I said no more before I kissed her, feeling the moment as it passed, not giving a damn what might be better, and knowing that whatever better might be, it would not be this.

For a split second I thought about perfection and the appetite to feed it?

God save me from optimal experience, and the compulsion to exceed it.