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Why Do You Come From, Baby Dear
Gerald Weales — December 1956
- Abstract
The whole world’s gone fertile with a
vengeance.
Each morning’s mail brings news of a baby
born.
I change no diapers, nor walk in morning
Hours to still a child. I stand outside
(Real nose to proverbial window)
And hear the pink-edged message (maybe
blue-
Baby blue) tapped out on my mailbox floor.
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