Baby Boom.

I smile to remember this;
the day numerical reasoning
was cast to the wind,
as we spent old money to see babies in jars.

And the human infatuation with blow-up-dolls
was discussed
at
length.

I giggled into your warm arm.

It was freezing and wet. But I could never have cared.
We took cover,
and I helped you buy a car.

Blue.
Like you, later that night.

Your chilli-sensations, my animal book,
a gift for a blind man, and taking the bus.

Buffalo will always be reading Dubliners in your room;
bare foot on your soft quilt and captivated by your Baby Boom.