...he's jaba the hut propped-up on my divan;
eyes surely seeing but ignoring me as i walk in,
casting about a couldn't-care-less look towards me
or about the why's of what he sees,
he's more concerned about the human parapet
continually passing, unannounced in front
of his blue-hazel windows to the world.

at four months he’s drinking the world
in gulps of formula; smells, noises, becoming familiar,
provoking his awareness to yet one more level,
another wobbly step laddering until adulthood.

10/12/2006