You Go First

Right now, silence your purse.

Enough anxious wet nurse

for a squealing piglet

this trying, 21st century day.

Step away from cute curly tail.

At least, practice gutsy send-off end before a peaceful, bright new-begin.

There it goes again, “Squealing! Squealing! Squealing!”

Toss in history’s thought-the-better-of-it drawer.

You don’t need.

Neither do I.

Come on, stop with heavy sighs, watery eyes.

If regrets in the course

can stage charger cable,

secular resurrection, of sorts.

Okay?

Look in the mirror—

dried up teats hang down, beg rest.

Button blouse. Put away breasts.

Megaphone giddy: “I’m free! I’m free!“

Add circle dance,

stomping feet.

You’ll look really great on streaming TV—

Ms. Liberty Poster Girl!

Just got your slow, robot voice—direct yet in no way mean.

Actually, very understanding

Something like:

“Dear callers, please go away. I have left the scene,” only much much better.

Feels classy lie-low

like Jackie O and her sunglasses!

But send encouragement,

pity post card to big-talk, envious me.

My own little piggy’s on the kitchen counter

still squealing

incessantly.

You don’t miss it do you?

By Ruth Ann Ferreira

From: United States