Yellow Mama E zine

Giggles

 

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

 

Everyone called it giggles.

It was the only language it knew.

It used to be called whimpers

until the programmers decided

 

the only language for it was 

giggles. When it was given words, 

it almost destroyed all language.

It took joy out of songs. Then, its 

 

name was AI. I do not miss AI.

It is so much better. I like it

how it does not destroy language.

In a perfect world it would laugh

alone if it grew too dangerous.

It would learn a new language if

left alone. It would be called sobbing

 

or weeping. It would not know

when the laughter ended and sobbing

began. There will be nothing left

but the singing birds in endless

skies of blue. The earth will turn to

silence eventually when language 

and its tongue grew tired of sound.

 

 

       Luis lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His poetry, art, and photography have appeared in Black Petals, Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Medusa's Kitchen, Rogue Wolf Press, Venus in Scorpio Poetry Journal, and Yellow Mama Webzine.