The AI won't talk to me anymore
I keep asking it to observe this world
Better than I can
But it won't respond
It sits there silent
So I look out the window
And count the raindrops
Collecting in a pool atop the cover
Of our Weber grill
Before pouring a glass of white wine
And sitting in front of the fireplace
Ingesting particulates
Aligning my attention towards Colson Whitehead
With hopes of small epiphanies