The pram-man in the showroom was proud to inform me
That this model ‘can do it all’.
It off-roads easily
Brakes on a dime
And has the largest storage capacity of any brand,
Comparable or otherwise.
‘Great for the shopping!’ he intoned with a humanoid charm.
My eyes were as big as my belly
The adventures we’ll have, I murmured.
We’re not in London anymore
We live in a land of hills, slopes, litigious pavements.
The first time I pushed it – with you – inside
Up the steps to my house
A windowcleaner, idling, watched me
‘That looks like hard work’ he chuckled.
I huffed a grin but
As with anything a woman faces repeatedly
Overtime I developed a party line.
‘Yes it’s good for the biceps!’
Breezily, cheerily, fuck-you-ing on the quiet.
I never pushed it without damp sweat
Gathering like clouds
At my hairline, armpits, my groin.
When I think of our magical adventures
I think of sweat.
And yes, it was good for storage
Especially good for hiding the pre-packed steak that I stole
From a supermarket.
Just to redress the balance
Of being a good and virtuous mother
Who had magical adventures.
Stefanie Moore 