Exchanging Babies in Parking Lots

They park out by the road
on the edge of the gas station
parking lot,
or sometimes the grocery store
or a church.
Probably not the one they attend,
but still, a church.

They move bundles and bags
between cars,
the necessities of a young life:
diaper bag, change(s) of clothes,
formula, toys, pacifiers, blankets.
The content changes with age,
the concept stays the same;
transient growth, multiple caregivers.

Often it is a young mom
handing off to her mother,
who gladly accepts
another round of raising babies,
even though she is supposed to be past
that time of her life.

Other times it is the parents,
a couple’s love abandoned,
a child to nurture.
He listens to instructions,
attempting patience with
words he has heard before.
She wrings her hands often.

Grandma always leaves slowly,
cautious with precious cargo,
dad is quicker, with something to prove.
Mom tends to wait a while,
only leaving when they are
out of sight.


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Filed under Poetry

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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