NOM NOM NOM

I saw him as I turned the corner
and looked down the crowded dusty aisle.
He was distinct and round, holding something
distinct and round.

It was one of those sights
so captivating that it
instantly mutes the rest of the world
including my mother’s voice behind me.

Most of the year these grounds are meadows
Where deer fawn and frolic.
But for two weeks each spring, the fields are
threshed to make room for the tents and children.

He didn’t move much,
perhaps he couldn’t, the way he was planted,
perched atop a highchair wrapped full-body
in bright red bunny jumpers…floppy ears and all.

Pride of his parents, and perhaps
the first of a generation, so he had his very own plate.
Eat my boy, Eat!
His face was hidden perfectly behind the crunchy golden sphere.

His small mouth didn’t make much progress
against the task at hand, but golly was it a sight to see.
Working at its petals, three at a time…
fried strands doused in ranch and his grandparents adoration.
And secretly mine too.

He had everything he needed in this world,
mothers love, fathers devotion,
a cup full of dip
and a massive blooming onion
at the Walton fair.