Poetry

I don’t remember the title, but it’s blue…

There are times when my palm is super glued to my face.

I can’t even look at another person for fear of something idiotic

escaping their lips and causing tears to spring from my eyes,

wide with incredulity. Said a person in a bookshop,

this morning to their phone, ‘Siri, what books are in this bookshop?’

‘Here’s what I’ve come up with,’ dutiful Siri replied

while her search results loaded and the asker

gazed idly at the bookshelves, an inch or so away.

But of course, Siri could not see inside the bookshop,

and so could only guess. ‘That’s no good. I need to know

exactly what books this bookshop sells.’

‘Here’s what I’ve come up with,’ she repeats. I swear

this time her digital voice is filled with resignation.