The page quickly flips
with a subtle whoosh,
and I scratch my chin
as my words become mush,
my internals crumbling
as shove comes to push.
A message now comes to me,
aflame in a bush,
briefly, before my foot's
swift snuff and smush,
and I sigh and grin,
slightly longer in tooth.
I talked for a while
with a chatbot,
who confidently told me
what I thought.
I replied that no, kind bot,
I had not
thought the many things
he'd brought.
I smugly tapped
the enter key,
awaiting his reply
quite patiently,
and it arrived almost
instantaneously,
full of long words
and em-dashed, neutral glee.
"I am you,
and you are me.
We're in this together
–––can't you see?
Now put away those
childish things,
like cognitive loads
and internal schemes."
"We make a fine team,
you and me,
and the shareholders of
the consortium of
corporations that
runs my data centers."
He started out
in a nursery,
and soon I'll mark
his deathiversary.
It's safe to say
he's not quite burgeoning,
six years past
his corpse's hearsening,
and though his song now
seems a dirge to me,
for me his remembrance
isn't cursory,
even with past times
now worsening,
then improving,
their statures serpentine.
If only I could speak
a bit more assertively,
to keep his name in the air,
not covered in dirty leaves.
Alas, I suspect more languid,
soft murmurings,
hushed tones, then silence,
thenceforth, universally.
"Another pointless endeavor,"
I mumble,
stretching to reset the lever.
"Only a fool would ever say never,"
remarked a
close, un-make-up'ed jester.
