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The Intercept Point

By Dylan Ecker From Issue No. 7

This baby circumnavigated a rust-colored rug

pausing to tear free one fray apparent exclusively

at average baby height but after failing many times

matched the stare of a stranger in a rain jacket

and, urgently, this baby began to smile

perhaps because the stranger smiled reflexively

the smile one smiles when observing this baby

as well as other babies, or perhaps because outside

three deer zipped along which caused this baby to think,

arms rising then falling then spinning, Why

right now am I so inundated with delight?—

either way it seems I am getting distracted

because what I wanted to tell you about this baby

was how I left the party early and upon rummaging

my jacket and realizing my car keys were gone

I ran back inside to discover this baby buck naked

using the grooves to engrave the vinyl floor with shapes

never imagined until that moment, the entire universe

continually barreling us toward exhaustion and

it makes sense then: babies suddenly crying, babies

growing into older versions of themselves and crying more.

About Dylan Ecker More From Issue No. 7