Baby defend me.

Baby, defend me.

Dress me with that navy blue baby tie you tie with your baby fingers and go fight my case for me. Be clever and quiet and bright. Remember that lawyer procedural drama you used to watch on the television? Be that, but be that baby. We'll walk into the courthouse - you strapped in my baby front pack, miniature briefcase in your baby lap. You can even drag out your baby soapbox that you've kept hidden beneath the jury pool!

Baby, surprise me.

Blow through whistles in your sleep or jump out of the laundry like a tiny beast. Buy me a bag of chewy sour candy and make my mouth hurt. But it's a good hurt. Just a baby hurt. Tell me Sarah Michelle Gellar is relevant again and make her a god damn superstar. Shock me with the news that diet cola is healthy and that the size of my package is above average. Or just tell me you love me like the whole world.

Baby, destroy me.

Fill up my empty bookshelves with fireworks and light a match near a crowded trashcan. Pray for a breeze slight. Start an arson run that spans four counties. Take my wallet like a baby pickpocket, so innocent. So cunning. Use the cash inside to buy a plane ticket for me, beckoned to where you are. Like it was the plan all along to look for me. Call to say: Whoa, baby. Go whoa yourself, Joey Lawrence. Whoa yourself all the way to the bank.

A Weekend's To-Do List

Sell some clothes.
Start a fire.
Build a birdhouse where the swimming pool used to be.

Ask Monster to describe my "killing eyes."
Cut back the crab grass so I can see the street.
Hate, then later understand, young adult fiction.

Deliver a few choice curse words.
(Think: Peter Serafinowicz.)
Smile/fang-like. Shake/those manos.

Splash them with Seagram's as holy water.

On wanting to adapt

"A charge," she said. "A mission."

This is what she gave to me, topless, when the world
outside was all thunderstorm and rain and fury.
It's not that easy, I said, unconvinced. It's more than that. It's environment. Biology.

"Laziness," she offered. More statement than question.

I wanted to hate her in that moment.
Hate her bluntness and her perception.
But I could not. She was at the heart of the matter.
I could end this world or destroy it, rebuild to suit my needs.
I asked her how to throw the first brick. Which window to smash first.

"Act."

But how was I to act? I am a beast. With fists and teeth, thumping and gnashing.

And she looked at me hard and smiled.

"Speak, bear. Speak."