In the Ay-er

I am at that specific elder millennial age
where I've dumped Top 40 Morning Drive
in favor of dulcet voices and witty insights
from Morning Edition's hosts,
Michel and Steve, A., and Leila. 

And so each morning
after I rouse my child (and run away)
I ask my Home Pod Siri
to play NPR News in the kitchen.

This month, the public radio 
streaming service on Apple:
"...has been brought to you...
...by Bayer Pharmaceuticals."

And every time WAMU plays
this same Bayer commercial, 
I'm a sleeper cell activated;
jolted awake, called to dance.

Without fail, I instantly belt out
in full-throated in will.i.am style:
🎵Ba-Yer! Ba-Bayer
        Bayer, Ba-Bay-er!!🎵

Then, at risk of hitting the fan, 
I throw my hands upppppppp:
🎵in the ay-er, ay-ayer
                    ayer, ay-ayer!🎵

And I repeat this several rounds
dropping low, pulsing my hips
feeling young, alive and relevant
— 'til my scandalized kid cuts in:

"Mom!Ugh! 
[That's her pet name for me]
Could you like...Not?!!
If you stopped singing 
that would be wonderful."

When sudden ego death 
threatens my existence
I’ve only one way 
to reasonably respond:

I sing, summoning Flo Rida:
🎵Oh hot damn! 🎵
                    She rolls her eyes;
I exclaim: 🎵 This is my jam! 🎵
                    She exits stage left.

[End scene]