For Year Number Twenty Four

Do something for me,
Mr. Twenty Four,
be nicer than Twenty Three.
He was a nut job, that one.
Do you realize what he did to me?
He made me a Mrs. from a Ms.
Oh, the horror, the atrocity,
the absolute injustice of being
(literally) signed off the singles market.
Yes, my dear Mr. Twenty Four,
that little rat, Twenty Three, your brother
or distant cousin, oh for the love of God,
extended family member, whatever,
that little weasel practically fired me
from being single.

No, no, it’s not a complete loss.
I get good benefits.
The health insurance that comes
with being a Mrs. has satisfactory coverage.
There is a driver and a car, small perks
that come with small sacrifices – you know, the usual,
sharing a bathroom, which can get taxing let me tell you,
cooking for two, definitely not my forte,
being patient, the hardest one by far.
Oh well, I will learn to live
with this little present Twenty Three left me.

But you, Mister Twenty Four, are full
of possibilities.
I will spray each day of you
with infinite love,
unwavering attention,
insurmountable praise,
if only you promise to be
just the perfect gentleman I need -
oh please, I was so not making a pass at you,
Mister Twenty Four,
we are having a perfectly decent
and polite conversation.
Good heavens, aren’t you a ladies man.

As I was saying, Good Sir, I have called
to ask a favor.
I am hoping that you,
unlike your predecessor,
that Twenty Three, ghastly man, I tell you,
will be much better for me.
Perhaps you could lose the necktie?
I could use a little informality,
a little winding down,
a moment to catch my breath, if you will,
right about now.

No, I am certainly not asking you
to get undressed.
How very inappropriate of you, Mister Twenty Four.
I must tell you that I am
utterly appalled at even the suggestion
of something so outrageous such as this.
Please, be decent, now.
Dear God,
I can see you have an interesting
sense of humor,
much like Twenty Three.

I fear I will have to let you
show yourself (your events, Mister Twenty Three,
get your mind out of the proverbial gutter)
in good time. All in good time, then.
I must take my leave now, and I have learned
not to approach one of your men prematurely.

I do still hope you will be kinder to me, Sir,
or at least more fun -

oh no, not your idea of fun -

good day to you, Mister Twenty Four, and
welcome.