Small Reach

Eyes open wide, he looks up at her face. Smiles for a

second and the world stops and lets the mobile continue to

spin.

Wrapped in a cloth as soft as the last baby, this baby

knows nothing about the blaring sun that

stuns him when he goes outside for the

first time, nor does he know what hunger feels like, subjecting

him to stares of concern and life and annoyance and breath taken still.

Eyes open wide, he stares at the blob that is her face, unmoving

as the background sounds try to distract him.

And they can't and they won't distract him. They can't and they won't

deter him. And they can't and they won't discourage him.

And they can't and they won't and they can't and they won't cause

he won't even know what those words mean for another two years,

because he can't and he won't.

A noise escapes his lips and the blob comes closer. The blob comes

closer. The blob comes. The blob is there.

A warm kiss on the cheek gives him a feeling that he can't yet describe,

but will later feel when he takes the girl he likes to the prom,

when he gets that promotion at work, when he takes the blob's place.

Eyes open wide, he looks up at her face. The world continues as

he looks into tomorrow.