My stomach felt tight and so I thought what if and when I tried giving birth I
ended up with a human child a six or seven-year old boy no less, who comes up
to my chest now I don’t mind bearing stuff I like but I do not like human
children and so at a loss, I check him out, flip him around, peek in his mouth
when I find that his legs poking out of his shorts are just like good mountain
potatoes, of a nice shape and color sliced clean right at the ankle the cross-section
a bit slimy, just like mountain potato mountain potato is one of my favorites
so I decide to wait and see
The child had trouble walking scooted forward slowly on smooth stainless surfaces,
leaving a trail like a slug but he hurt pretty badly on sharp, pebbly surfaces
I tried to buy him shoes but there were none that fit no shoes that fit a kid
with nothing past the ankles I thought I should feed him, or rather, invited
him to a restaurant you know I don’t eat, he replied coldly<
This cold manner of speech sounds familiar oh yes an old lover, I realize and
so then it follows that he must have been my child as well<
If this kid eats anything he will die that much sooner which might mean we’d
have to part ways again and so I walk on without holding his hand, keep turning
back and turning back at him<
The smooth path fades away like the tide the place is scattered with triangular
rocks the child’s potatoes wear down no matter how careful I am each step
leaves behind some ground potato, shining on a rock<
The sight of which filled me with regret, and I touched him, through his shirt,
thinking how wonderful if only he were potato all the way from the neck down
but he felt sort of human-like and sort of potato-like and I just couldn’t
quite tell