Phone Call From Mr. Baby Man Poem by John W. McEwers

Mr. Baby Man talks like a baby
to his woman like he wants a mother
not a lover
and he calls her on the phone to say
'I wuv yoooo schweetie ooooOOoo ookie pookiepoo! '
and I can't help but think
of this grown, hairy man
crawling up into her womb
to play house.

Mr. Baby Man wuvs hish schweetie sho musch
that he'll sit in a high chair
and spit up his food
and clap wildly at puppies
while he grins and coos

and this is all, I guess, cute?

Well, I hope the wind tells the women
of the far ranging world
that John here likes his Baby Men mute.