Baby Pants
by Misha Collins
The Columbia Poetry Review #21, 2008 Edition.
This morning I drive across town for a friend
To Justin’s house on a Saturday at 9.
His wife yells from under wet hair
Belt unbuckled
“Justin!”
He’s down in the office
And I sit—collapse on the new couch
Custom made, brown and squarer than a couch should be.
Justin’s baby produces baby pants for my inspection.
I’m impressed, he can find his own pants now.
Can’t put them on, but knows
They go
On his baby legs.
And there I am
With my friend’s family
On a weekend morning.
The mother holds an envelope
In her teeth
Hoists and struggles
To pant her boy.
I’m slouching and hot in my vest
My blue, down vest.
Thinking today was colder than it is.
Forgetting that fall in California
Is like summer back home.
Plastic diapers pack the thighs of tiny corduroys
The smell of Cheerios bloated and floating in milk
What have I missed?
This is a poem I just happen to really like (although if I had my way, I'd probably change some line breaks and wrestle it in to some stanzas). I don't know why, but I can relate to it, not in the baby-family sense, but in other ways...very grass-is-always-greener even when you can see the downfall of that otherside, ya know? It probably helps that I'm half-in love with the poet, too.
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I agree with you about line breaks, I think I would break it up a little too. It is a great poem though, and I think a lot of people can relate to it. Especially the last part, about the cheerios and milk smell. Gross.
ReplyDeleteI love this poem. I like how this poem tells a story and provide great details that makes the message easier to get. I never heard of this author before, so thank you for this. Great Job
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