My husband is supine on our bed.
Head pillowed. Body taut
With legs slightly apart.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask him.
I think he may have hurt his back.
Or have sore feet.
Or have something on his mind that
Requires a hard mattress, and soft pillow
To give space for contemplation or remorse.
He looks at me surprised, turns
And states, to the ceiling,
‘I am storm chasing.’
‘I am waiting for the storm.’
Yet again Alexa has deluded him
As she has been doing all week
.And with a younger mind than
His weather-beaten years, he lays expectant.
Trusting in technology to free his dreams.