Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Fake Baby Love

Eeh I can’t wait to get home and cuddle my little baby.
“Scuse me, come again?” Says my manager, we do a car share thing together.
Cuddle my baby.
“You’re 50 years old when did you have this baby?”
Oh no, not a real baby, well I think she’s real.
I call her a Pocahontas.
She’s a Native American baby, but I don’t let her wear that ethnic stuff.
Her skin feels lovely just like a real baby,
Weighs the same as a real baby.
“Does it wee, crap and sick like a real baby?” She asks.
Eeeh you are funny, of course she does, but I don’t mind.
Manager doesn’t believe me so I show her t’website where I bought her.
You can buy all sorts of babies, Madonna shoulda got one,
They’ve even got Cambodian babies and they come in different ages.
“So basically you’ve got a fake baby.”
Well I wouldn’t put it that way, my friend’s got five, all in moses baskets keeps them in her spare bedroom.
I’m off round her’s tomorrow night.
But tonight I’m going to sit down with a box of roses.
Cup of tea, Coro and cuddle my baby.
“You’ve children of your own though?”
Of course luv, but they’ve all grown up.
They: “Mother, you’re fucking sad.”
But I don’t care I’ve got my little Pocahontas to cuddle and she loves me.
I found my daughter’s old pram…
“You dare,”says manager lady.
I thought me and my friend Sheila, we could. ..
“Finish that sentence and you can forget our car share.”

Elizia Volkmann

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