please don’t look at me like that

you look at me
with those big puppy eyes
rubbing your tummy
and pointing to your mouth.

someone told you
(your mom? do you have a mom?)
my white skin means
i have money.
but i have so much more than that.

i know who made you,
i know who held you
before your mom.
(by the way, where is she?)

i know who counted your hairs
and made your eyes so big
and beautiful.
i know who made that fingernail
and put that dimple in your chin.

but i don’t know why
your mom doesn’t come
tell you that playing in the street is dangerous
and it’s time for dinner.
i don’t have an answer for that.

you’re right -i am rich.
i wish i could give you everything.
but here are some biscuits.

 

(i’m sorry for the obnoxious free-form chaos. i am not a poet, but this had to get out.)

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