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what is it exactly, inside of me
that makes me want to impregnate every girl that i see?
“some male bullshit” – i hear your decree,
but what makes a woman fill up a jar with her own pee?

i know what words have trained my desire:
those from the videos that draw my girlfriend’s mire:

“oh Brother!
or Father: insert your own proscript here –
let us no longer fight this raging ball of fire!
put a baby in me! that’s right! go on!
it’s okay! we’re only step-siblings/daughters/legal-aged-nieces anyway!”
the same thing every other day.

but today is my Sunday.

i’m sitting by the park in my jeep
with my sunglasses on, typical me
smoking a joint on a hot Spring afternoon.
the playground is coincidentally in-view, and
inside the car is as warm as the womb,
and the young moms don’t care if you wave or say “hi”
cause they’re all wearing sweatpants and not tights pulled up high
because their priorities that day didn’t include
fraternizing with a smelly old bearded dude

but as much as their mothers max my vision’s potential,
i see the face of the child

and i think if it’s that what’s been holding me back all this while.
of course i don’t want to disappoint my father’s wish
for a grandbaby,
and we all know to do that, there’s only a few different ways

but i have to think about what came before,
and worry what they’d have to grow up for.
maybe that’s the reason for my impregnation infatuation:
to consummate that which is a postpartum connection.
hopefully a dog will be less mental aggravation.

//jf 5.14.2022

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