You had come here in the wee hours in swaddle cloths of smelly piss and drool. Much earlier, there was this rubber hose that stretched to the sky, to its flying birds, to man dealing with a shadow in the night in purely visceral system of blood and fluid.
There was in fact no love, only a system of tight-screw effect flowing from cause when she would become big with stomach in a midnight moment of coalescing bodies.You kicked tiny feet against its rubber walls. It was a system that you could not change.
Later you thought you knew the system ,a matter of procedures where it happened. Then you were here, your lungs full of wind ,your eyes filled with thin colored dreams. At many times you wanted to change the system,to make all that happen as in baby-dreams.
Your dreams were insubstantial snow-flakes of last winter season, that vanished in thin air, when your clenched baby-fists loosened grip and you are no longer around to monitor if systems are in place and working well.
Fog 