The Sewer

i fell out of the baby's mouth. Normally would be a grievance to me. But i got so close to one of these holes in the ground, i guess you call them a sewer,. And i could hear, as though putting an ear to a con shell, the sound of rushing, rushing water. This is what i dream of, the gentle rocking of the waves. As i see the baby rock, rock in its crib, i imagine being rocked gently, gently to a state of peace, pacification, even on these waves. Maybe one day we'll even all get to meet each other, all- us lost abandoned pacifiers, living together, swept off to pacifyou