We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
I was unfamiliar with this poem, even the poet, but really appreciate the false attempt to minimize loss as a way to cope. A lit teacher friend tells me the actual title is "One Art," implying that the author is dealing with a number of life skills. Which might mean she is trying to learn not only how to accept irrecoverable loss - but how to do so within the larger context of learning to accept growing older and accepting her own mortality. (Maybe that's what the writer means by "Write it!" Her words are her legacy?)