the crying baby

my neighbor knocks

at my door

at two a.m.

she's holding her crying baby

in her arms.

do you have any

baby formula,

she says. i'm plumb out

of breast milk.

this baby has cleaned

me out.

i try not to look at her

breasts under her terry cloth

pink robe.

hmmm.

hold on let me check,

baby formula, baby formula.

i  start searching

the cupboards

for baby formula.

pushing things around,

up, down,

under the sink.

does it come in a box, or what?

yes, a box.

i look in the fridge.

nope. nothing.

i do have some cream of

wheat though.

and some sour

milk.

will that work.

maybe throw an egg

in there with a couple

spoons

of sugar. stir it up.

okay, i guess i could try

that.