The POTW: Verse Til It Hurts


POTW #867
(Week of 3 August, 2014)

Max and I went to Peet's today, where I made some notes for a poem about the local ladies knitting circle and the nefarious things I imagine they get up to, before realizing I'd written a similar poem a couple of years ago. One of the knitters came over to ogle Max and comment about what a big boy he is, so I decided to riff on that a bit instead. (In reality I don't usually mind when complete strangers want to paw the baby, and he doesn't seem bothered either. But you never know what people might be thinking. Also, I think October must be coming.)

The Tender Age

Beneath the unambiguous wig there lurked an ambiguous lady
"He's so big!" the stranger said, referring to my baby
"Such ample cheeks, and I must say his thighs look very nice
Would you mind if I pinch him and prod him and check him for jaundice and lice?
I just can't get enough of that delightful baby smell
Like cantaloupes, pristine and fresh - how old is he, pray tell?"
Her calipers were polished clean, her eyeballs likewise gleamed
"His skin's so soft," she coyly coughed, "he must be as tender as cream
Succulent and flavorful and not a trace of gristle..."
A jar of paprika appeared in her palm as she joyfully started to whistle
I recognized the tune as the theme from a cable cooking show
"Cooking with Kids," a rather informative series, I happen to know
"Now listen here," I said, "I'm not sure who you think you're fooling
But you can stop your groping and your unattractive drooling
I don't like your intentions, your paprika, or your tone
This meal is mine and I'm not inclined to sharing - get your own!

Copyright © 2014 by Dave Grossman

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