this one's mine

I am mother, or superhighway. Tuck yourself behind my knees. Line your cars up along my body. My shoulder's your mountain. I am mother, or multipurpose wipe. Ten sticky fingers twirl my hair. Freezing hands beneath my sweater, wipe your nose on my hem. I am mother or, bolster pillow, Lounge against my belly, ye redolent of peanut butter cheese crackers. Fish kiss my lips, try on my glasses. I am mother, or lookout post. Perch yourself upon my hip, pat absently my shoulder. Toes find purchase  in thigh, lower back. I am absolutely comfortable.  (c) Lauren Wainwright 2/24/2005