In the Ay-er
“In the Ay-er,” in which the geriatric Millennial is awoken like a sleeper cell every time a Bayer commercial plays on the radio. Written March 10, poem 069 in a series of 365 poems written by Diana Ludwick in 2026. Photo by Diana Ludwick (c) 2026.
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]
