Last night I woke from a dream
Where you had taken that baby food away from me.
Baby food you’d given me.
Baby food I didn’t want nor need.
But you left the paper bag with me.
You’d said it help me carry
When my hands were full of things.
For your hands were already juggling
Several fragile bottles of desperate attempts at nourishing.
I had only one question when you left
And all my other wonders were finally answered.
You are an adult,
So why feed yourself with the food for the young.
Texture-less stuff that we had both grown out of.