babysitting you 

i'm strapping you into 
the car seat, again. the harness
fits across your small body
& your fingers are worms. 
we're going somewhere made 
of air fresheners & 
upside down ice cream cones.

are you growing yet?
take your time, we have
all afternoon. let me tell
you a story though.

when i was as small as you,
we lived on main street 
in a house with two sides
& raccoons in the walls.

we had a backyard  
of board game pieces 
& i'm always the blue one.

the neighbors side
of the house was covered 
in  vines & we named 
the stray cats  &  fed
them  bologna.

i bought myself a car seat
today too. i don't fit 
but i can learn from you.

from your hair-tie mouth
& your fingers made of worms;

i lay you in the yard so
they can dig. who is 
the youngest brother now?

dig me a world, brother,
i want to be the backseat child
& when you get there bring
me back a candy bar or
a bag of gummy bears.

this is a steering wheel
that rolls into a dinner plate
that rolls into a bowl
of overripe pears on the table.

you should sleep though,
in the yard. headlights on,
i'll wait here in the car,
i'll buckle myself in, safe.

mom & dad are watching
from the attic, feeding
each other worms they do.