Of “Cute” Buttons and Babies

On the first floor
I saw a lady with a baby
talking to another lady
who was looking at the baby
who said the baby
was “as cute as a button.”

I got into the elevator

The first floor button
was slightly smeared
with the crud of somebody’s
hand, peanut butter or maybe feces
who knows. Then the rest,
Second floor
through call button, all looked
as cute as every other button
that I’ve ever had the pleasure
of pressing.

None of the buttons there
or any buttons of my recollection
were cute…
so I questioned
was the baby cute
or maybe the baby
looked like the rest of the babies
and wasn’t that beautiful,
handsome, or as cute as one would
assume a cute button to be.

Perhaps the non-baby lady told an
idiom to make the idiot baby lady
just to promote the continued
happiness from the past
act of its conception.

I hit the fourth floor
and passed on pondering
the thoughts of the baby
and left the idiom and idiot
lady to fight amongst themselves
to figure out how cute
that baby that was said to be
as cute as a button can
actually be.


One thought on “Of “Cute” Buttons and Babies

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