Why Even I Cannot Applaud
How often do you feel
that you are in on Stage
In a Broadway Play, maybe
with a mute audience,
blind maybe as bats in daytime?
Ah, you write your Google
or Windows folks
who do not seem to think
they have written the script
on which you play, maybe improvise
to see if they listen to what
they wrote . . .
You telephone
and spend minutes, hours
talking to human sounding machines
know-it-all clones who know nothing
unless you answer them
and admit to the crimes, desires
you ask. Do they listen?
No.
To reach a real
interactive human is a task
after almost an hour
the other day I talked
with one, a nice lad it seemed
who I ended calling an ass
he replied “We do NOT use profanity”
I said I did not but used the part
of anatomy that he seemed to
be speaking from
and that, maybe instead,
he was just stubborn
like a donkey, for which that is also
a name for them
Ah, to hear again & talk to people
Damn I miss you all
recalling the days
when someone in town
would direct your party line
to the person you desire
who they might even know
but then, wait a minute
maybe that was when
we just started getting
those ringy-dingy-thingies
in our homes, new to
Mom, Dad, and us kids
Ozzie and Harriet
the Beaver kid we left it to
or Amos and Andy, funny as Lucy
not yet thought of
nor that Lucy married to Desi
of a marginal race, back
when it was exotic, racism hidden like Ki-mo Sah-bee
and Lucy was like us all, they all were
clumsy, smart and stupid at times
with Fred & Ethel Wurts
you learned you could
talk to people, and parents
treated you, trained you
that strange concept
of respect
of conversation
school brought hope
universal new for all, boys and girls
Here I go wondering off
off the stage
into the pit
of self-pity
to request that WE all
quit being abused by masked bandits
recorded to speak as if
they where human like us
This mad Day as Summer, which never came, has ended ©jmf-w 9/27/2024
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