she lacks an authorial voice
her words, written and spoken
a stream of
predictive text, parroted speech
her critical and narrative content indistinguishable from AI
except AI is more
nuanced, intuitive,
less clichéd, less shrill,
wittier /
stuck in a closed circuit, which she proudly calls her “circle”
and what he euphemistically calls “the perimeter”
regurgitation is their duo’d dialect //
yet, he parlayed
to be her favorite toy, tethered to her scratching post, center stage
and boy,
does she scratch and meow, and meow and scratch, always coughin’ up a whollotta nuthin’
she’s amplified her own monotone acoustics over his
and he doesn’t recognize his own voice
or hear his own thoughts, anymore ///
alone, only in church and in the shower
he confesses,
prays aloud
for his own deafness,
or for the blessed return
of her disinterest — what an ironic twist ////
Continue reading “sound stage”

