hey bug

a woman up the street,
i don't know her name,
but we know each other
well enough to acknowledge
one another and say hello,
and comment on the sun,
the wind, or cold. she
usually has a stroller
in front of her, with a
fat pink faced baby tucked
inside, blue eyed, with wisps
of yellow hair flying
out from beneath a white hat,
that has the name 'bug'
stitched in red on
her forehead. hey bug,
i say, and the baby stares
back, her eyes so fresh,
and new, so wet and
yearning for what's next
in this world,
and they stay on me
for as long as they can,
her head turning until
the stroller is away,
and my key is in the door
to go home.