Monday, February 17, 2003

terrible twos

for you, I will drink my ginger ale quietly
and eat my 19s with my fingers

instead of throwing them at other kids, even though
targets abound, and so tempting, oblivious

and chewing, with TV eyes. I like making them cry
and trying to describe it: their faces expand

and turn the color of juice while juice
drips from their eyes.

for me, you will stop staring at the wall,
your frown of intense concentration (you

have the most dramatic eyebrows ever seen
on a toddler) will scamper off, leaving you

surprised and forced to find a new expression. you will cope
by sucking my thumb & we will stare

as deep as 2 year olds can get into each others�
sticky happy faces, immortally softandround with youth

while around us children break things. we are serious
and calm: we read already: our palms tell our stories

in Mr Sketch. I reach up and smooth your hair: your curls
are burnt-toast, mine are maple-syrup. we�re suited

to each other, all the adults say so:
I�ve never seen 2 year olds so sweet

on each other! & we smile, our hands hidden
and working under my blue duck dress,

beneath your Osh Kosh. soon, we�ll sneak to the kitchen
steal cookies and watch Pulp Fiction

but for now we�re content in the playroom, playing, dodging
other kids� cereal, celebrating being 2 years old, and coming.

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