Today I heard a mother talking to her newborn son she didn't know I was listening she told him all about her day she called him 4 names, all very soft names I could hear her smile and tighten him to her chest she said, you suck like a mad man. she swaddled him in her dress she had an accent like a porch light, a guide for her baby I suppose and I envied him with his small nostrils and lips full of yellow milk his mother blazing a sunny kiss across his head and in that moment I remembered nothing about childhood except the pink parts my mother would sometimes butter me with she always saved the red heart of the watermelon for one of us never for herself she would hand me the shiny lesson, looking directly in my eyes she said this was the best part she said I should eat it before it stopped beating.