They call it data
But what she really processes
Is much more than numbers
Kristen spends her days
You can’t tell that they’re days
Insulated by artificial climate
She is a necessary extension
Her brain making distinctions
Among non-numerical facts
She likes her job
But when her mind wanders
She makes mistakes

As when she worries about Red Dog
Able to enter the kitchen
Or trot out to the back yard
At her pleasure
What is Red Dog doing right now
Is she sleeping under the patio furniture
Or barking at a squirrel
Has she had an accident
Red Dog always smiles when Kristen returns to ask
How was your day
And Red Dog replies
Great but I’m glad you’re home

And sometimes when her mind wanders
Her thoughts take a frightening turn
The more frightening
Because Kristen doesn’t want such thoughts
Knives that cut
Perilous voyages
A certain unpleasant memory
Involving a certain person
Who got carried away
And sort of forgot to ask
What Kristen might want

And sometimes she thinks she has merged
Physically merged
With the keyboard and the monitor
And she tells herself
She doesn’t want to tell herself
You are a device
And she knows it’s wrong
It should be
You are part of a device
But over and over again
Like a catchy song
You are a device
You are a device