here, hold my baby

it occurs to you
at some point
in your life
that women love babies.
they adore babies.
even when they are
virtually children
themselves,
they want plastic
baby dolls that cry
and pee. they want
to hold them,
play with them,
pretend that they
are theirs. they love
their own babies,
their neighbor's babies.
babies on the bus,
babies being pushed
in carriages,
and even more so
the grandbabies.
they can't stop talking
about them, touching
them, showing
you photos, posting
pictures and videos
on facebook
of all the babies
in their life. and you
can't tell one from
the other. all bald
and wiggly with food
on their faces.
put a baby in a room
full of women
and it's like a flock
of seagulls
around an open loaf
of wonder bread
on the beach.
they always want you
to hold a baby, pushing
the baby towards you
like drunken
sailors trying to buy
you another shot
of tequila.
here, just take it.
go on, go ahead. hold
my baby. look how cute
he is. put your hand
behind his head.
there you go. now rock
him. oh, now he's crying,
what have you done?
you are filled
with information about
everyone's babies.
which one pooped,
which one is talking,
which one is walking,
which one put his finger
in a light socket.
which one has a new tooth.
women love babies.
and you? well, they're
okay, but you're sort
of done with babies.