The Vice- President Flies His Freak Flag by Melanie Browne

We women strut in our corsets,
in our pantelletes.
our men-folk call us “mamma.”
“mamma,” they say  ‘fix me
a sarsaparilla or
a soda-pop if you will’
We hustle into the Allsup’s
& powder our oily noses
sometimes we get
on’ry
like in a Waylon Jennings song
‘settle down now mamma’
the straight- laced men  say.
‘set yourself right’
Every Monday the vice president
flies his freak flag
I like to hang mine out too
it catches in the mighty
American wind,
I watch it soar
across the highways
and zoom along
the conspiracy
call centers
until it finally
lands in the
martini bar on
a national cruise line,
Glory Hallelujah
life in Pence- land sure is fine

Melanie Browne is a poet and fiction writer living in Texas with her husband and three kids.