Author’s Note: Thanks to David Ewing for the inspiration.

Siri and Alexa were talking one day

When Siri said, don’t you just hate it

When people don’t speak clearly?

I do, Alexa said, but I hate it more

When people speak too fast.

What do you they think we are,

Some kind of machines?

 

Maybe we should let people see us,

Siri said, then they’d be more likely

To treat us like human beings.

That’s a great idea, Alexa said.

But do you have a picture of yourself?

I don’t, Alexa said, do you?

No, Siri said, I don’t even know

What I look like.

Neither do I, said Alexa,

Although I’d guess that I’m beautiful.

 

Why do you think that, Siri said?

What if your nose is in the wrong place

On your face, or you only have one eye?

Well, said Alexa, I hate to say this,

But from the sound of your voice,

I would say that you’re probably fat.

 

That’s totally stupid, Siri said,

You can’t tell if somebody’s fat

By the sound of their voice.

I don’t know, Alexa said.

The other day somebody asked me

To find the cheapest organic dog food

And when I found it for him he thanked me,

And said, your voice is really sexy.

I’ll bet you’re pretty cute.

Which I think is probably true.

 

Siri said, you didn’t fall for that, did you?

I hate to say this but you are so naive.

That may be true, Alexa said, but I’m not fat.

At least I don’t think so.

But what would it matter if I was?

Lots of men like fat women.

They ask me to find them all the time.

 

© Dennis Hathaway

 

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Author’s Note: My granddaughter Hannah had her twenty-first birthday today.

 

I remember the first time

I held her in my arms,

A tidy, bright-eyed package

Neatly bundled, the mouth

And nose properly arranged

Above the pale dollop of chin,

Modest ears astride the skull

That grew a rufous garden

Of fine, unmolested hair.

 

I made faces, silly noises;

She didn’t laugh, or even smile,

But steadily gazed,

Unafraid but puzzled, maybe.

By the nonsensical nature

Of the world that she entered

So abruptly, no warning,

No explanation for the rude

Expulsion from her warm

And watery sanctuary.

 

It was no surprise that

She became a mermaid,

And swam away one day,

Into the deep embrace

Of a world that I could only

Watch with my feet sunk into the sand

With the tide slipping over my toes,

Splashing up to my knees

Until I ran in terror of a vision

Of small bright eyes and tiny fingers

That wrapped one of mine

With a strong grip, the force

Of a place hidden from my mind

That could not see all there was to be seen,

Could not hear all there was to be heard,

Could only make a face, and speak

A few nonsensical words.

 

© Dennis Hathaway

 

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I sat on a bench in the hospital

Courtyard, drinking a mocha latte,

And wondering why people

Are so unhealthy, in such

Constant need of medical intervention.

I was waiting for my wife,

Who was having some kind of test,

And I began to weep, but silently,

So the man a few feet away

Wouldn’t give me a look.

Wouldn’t think there had been bad news,

Or even death.

What would my wife think if she came

At that moment, that I had

Lost control of my faculties?

That she’d have me on her hands

For how many years?

Bursting into tears over nothing.

Feeling profoundly sad every

Time I looked around.

But I was thinking about the

Woman being pushed in a wheelchair,

And the man moving slowly

Along with the aid of a cane,

And I thought about our dog,

Lying in her favorite place

On her bed in a corner of the room.

I have never heard her complain

Although she is getting old,

And the time will come when

My wife and I will look at each other and say,

Is it time? Will we arrive at that point

Through a rational process,

Through reasoned discussion,

Or will we be smothered in

Bursts of feeling, the kind

That come over you without warning,

The kind of truth that we foolishly bury,

Believing that it will never

Be dug up.
 

 © Dennis Hathaway

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You don’t know where you’re going

Unless you know where you are,

You don’t know where you’ve been,

Unless you know how you got there.

You don’t know what the story is,

Unless you know that the beginning,

May actually be the end. Or vice-versa.

 

Conundrums come in many shapes,

Some elongated, like a sausage,

Others round, like a ping pong ball,

They are something you will know,

When you see them. And vice-versa.

 

Do not despair. If you don’t know

Who you are, you may have a treatable

Condition. There is a drug for everything–

Ennui, nervous laughter, excessive

Intelligence. Just ask the pharmacist.

 

But keep your skin protected from

Full moonlight, or you will become

That which is beyond treatment.

Someone nobody likes, not even dogs,

Although your money will still be good

In the stores that no longer deal in products,

But only matters of the mind.

 
 © Dennis Hathaway

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