Then while I fetch mail, and try to write,
                 the endless questions start,
                 about percents and series, about the child
                 he thinks he will have, about the dream he had
                 last night, about the universe.

                 He is up, dancing in the hall, long limbs thrown wide,
                 gleeful because he's thought of a new word, "jhip",
                 which means kinder than kind
                 and contrasts with "ziggy" of two days ago,
                 and wants me to invent conversations with his future child
                 and him, and me, and his future wife (who is named Sally,
                 for reasons I'll never know.) What would Morgan say?
                 What would Sally say? What would I say if
                 (how unlikely this is!) he were ziggy
                 to Morgan and she and Sally came to me?

                 Then it's letters--new letters, that can make two sounds,
                 as c and g already do...but his are more fun.
                 He designs the letters, defines their function: seef
                 makes s and f, while fik makes f and k...
                 and then spells with them, expecting me to know
                 what the word is...
                 he skirts around the rude possibilities,
                 eyes sparkling with mischief.

                 It's not even 10 o'clock yet,
                 his father's in the garden but I'm available.
                 Dishes undone, washing undone, outside work undone,
                 I can't withdraw from the dazzle
                 thrown from the facets of his mind...

                 "If I were being infinity percent mean
                 would you say I was a goblin?"

                 I would say you are what you are
                 which is not defined by words,
                 and changeable as morning light
                 moving across the walls to illuminate
                 first one thing then another.

                 "Are you going to send me away
                 if I say infinity percent mean words?"

                 Not a chance, morning dancer, light-bringer,
                 fractal mind elaborating patterns:
                 not a chance.