I drop out realizing we’re a pair
of mother/child misfits. You, intent on
observation, sitting in place, floppy
and drooly smiled. Me, with my own troubles
keeping my head up, imagine my limited
words sinking against the crowd of high-pitched
verses. Everywhere other babies strive, pulling
their bodies to the unknown. If only we hadn’t been
refused our share of sustenance. Contemplating you,
now slouched and angry, I devise our exit strategy,
which I name–a first time for saving each other.
