Go to the store, collect frozen garlic loaf,
noodles, sauce, parmesan, & meat.
When it’s time to leave,
the self-checkout seems more self-
obsessed than self-aware, less AI &
more I quit. It freezes after the ultimate item,
tells me, Help is on the way,
which feels more self-defeating.
The clerk who comes to my rescue
is stoned out of his mind, staring,
rubbing at his faint goatee. “Sorry,”
he says, “I was mesmerized by your
garlic bread,” then tries to chat
about irrational imperatives of machines.
He’s so friendly I want to invite him
for dinner, see his glasses steamed
by sauce. I sense that he would love
a conversation more.

– Ace Boggess