The truth?

It chilled me
The soft lady’s voice
Beauty sans
reading me
in my car
Helpless without
training wheels
& words lose 
their love 
when run together

A zombie read 
A lifeless read
less of a poem
more like a screed

Passion dissected
conforming to

& my title
“Paterson Conversation” 
hanging on the
bluetooth screen
a musical note
at its side
lovely like a pendant 
lit up like a lie 

My poem stripped
to the bone

How she (it?)
found it
spoke it 
& me never
requesting it
I don’t know

I don’t know
if the future
is for manufactured
voices alone

& this I fear

that when AI
recites a poem
of what it does 
it doesn’t care