Poem: "Warm-Blooded"

Black tufts, though straight and nestled
And snug, he on two legs, rocking —
Wind scattering, mixed identities fled to the garage —
both of us were warm, sharing Big to little, clung,
wrapping his little body, his legs dangling —
mom talking, “He’s always like that. Sister the same way.”
He liked the comfort my body gave;
mammalian warmth, nurturing and tender caress,
pushing her aside, “Excuse me, please,”
and climbed on, I sipping a coffee intent in her eyes,
like a ride at the fair, the ticket fluttered between
the cobblestone, slightly green from humid North Sea rains,
like the ticket used and worn — didn’t expect a child
to hug, to protect, but I held him nonetheless

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