I do not want to have a baby. I do not want a body to emerge from my body; I do not want to be pregnant. I do not want to be a parent; I do not want to have a child.
I just want milk to come out of my breasts; I want sustenance to flow from my breasts; I want to stand in the center of a town milk flowing like a fountain so that everyone may come and drink from my breasts; fragmented bum veterans tottering up, homeless bulgy-eyed children filling their rickety bellies, each boy businessman dribbling drops of my milk on his stripy tie, and don't you know the sedated balls of researchers from Procter and Gamble would harden, retract as they drank from my breasts and in their joy they would open the cages, the cats, dogs, rats, and rabbits all running free would lap up the milk as it dripped from my breasts the whole town lined up for days and the more who came the more milk my breasts would make until a river of milk flowed through the streets the cars would stop, and drivers get out to taste the sweet river of milk and they would go home and make love with whomever they chose for days.
In the center of town I would stand never tiring photosynthesizing and my roots would draw down, breaking asphalt like cookie crumbles, and my breasts would grow to the size of studio apartments and the birds would make nests in my pubic hair yes I do not want to have a baby; I just want someone to drink from my breasts.
