On The Town

Out with friends...gossip about those not present...no talk of babies, stretch marks, or potty training. Libations flow, bread broken. Say what you want, curse if you will. Shake your ta-ta's...let your hair down. You're an independent, an adult, a WOMAN. Is he looking at me? He might be. Good. Let'em look. Nervously, reflexively...reach into your coat pocket. There you feel it...the single small sock, shriveled raisin, and small toy car. Oh motherhood, you bitch, can I not just have one night?