Small Stone: Dexter and his baby
Every morning, while I make my half cup of coffee, after you’ve had your breakfast, you get your baby and wait for me.
You follow me back to my studio, Little D hanging from your mouth by one foot. When I sit down, you crawl under my writing desk, on to the bed there by my feet, and as I write, I listen to you chew the beans in Mini D’s legs. Some ancient and deep instinct in you must remember eating animals whole and you probably imagine the crunch of beans as real bones.