Dear Mrs. Jones,
Please accept my resignation.
I know you have come
to expect me beside you.
What a long time we have
been at this together.
Husbands and houses
and graduate degrees,
children and book deals
and dress sizes.
It would be easy to blame
my torn hamstring.
It’s just gotten so hard
to keep up. Painful, even.
But that isn’t it.
Sometimes I notice
that I forget you, your
perfect complexion, your
six-figure advances, your
obedient children, your yacht,
and life is a whole lot more lovely then.
Mrs. Jones, I get seasick.
I do not want the yacht.
Sincerely,
It’s great that I have no idea who you are writing to until I reach “sometimes I notice” and from there she turns into the archetype she’s suppose to be for all of us to keep up with. Excellent last line too.