express yourself, water babe

I entertain the thought of not being able to see my water babe grow big enough to swim across the arctic waters

So does my wife

In her ladybug bikini

How will the red of the ladybugs’ wings run in the cold black water ?

I say, thank you Clovique, for fast-forwarding my life to a grassless hill in Karawang

A modest river in the non-existent trees

Flowing slowly

What will you do to remember your mother and father, child ?

Your mother’s slumped doll head fast asleep feeding you through a cracked teat ?

Her backbreaking determination to express herself in the middle of the night

Her tireless understanding of a husband dozing off to dreams of MadAss Kymco Trend Spartan

I can’t expect you to remember things you don’t yet understand, child

But be good to your mother

She of the Casper-arms and eyes

I will pray in my own secular way so she can witness you bloom into an angel with the widest wing-span in the adult universe

So she can guide you through your first trip across all the points in all possible and impossible universes

You owe her, child, your life

You don’t owe me anything

(Except a kiss on my cold cheek when I’m dead. I’ve always wanted to know if the dead can still feel things they desperately want to.)

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