I eat a lot of pastries in a lot of cafes
with you—immaculate cafe baby
charming and observant
like your radical grandfather.
They see our caravan coming
marked by the large wooden spoon
you brandish from the stroller
like a divining rod searching for coffee.
OMG is that a wooden spoon
the avant-garde baristas fawn
and I hope they know
I’m also avant-garde I swear just not right now.
Right now I’m an American STAY AT HOME, MOM
I take you on three stroller walks a day
to eat hundreds of scones
and scroll social media while you nap.
My secret is I paise God for it
the cool girl coos and capochinos—half caff
enough to walk home in bliss
but still sleep at night.