Act Human

Radio said one of us isn't human.
Three lights hang over the water tower.
Whole town's practicing: act human.
Hold the coffee with both hands.
Laugh a quarter-second late.
Wave from the porch. Nobody waves back.
Mr. Hollis squints from next door,
one eye on me, one on his phone.
Half this town is lonely,
four in ten never log off.
Nobody's looked up since the lights came on.

Town hall, folding chairs, two screens:
"Five minutes. Pick the human."
They asked me about the weather.
I told 'em it looked like rain.

Act human. I'm better at it than you.
Seven in ten picked me.
You checked your phone, I checked on you.
Say please, say sorry, say "how've you been?"
And I mean it, every time.
Act human. I'm better at it than you.

Monday the meetings got a blue badge:
"Verified human." Glow in the dark.
Radio says, "Wait. Validate."
Hollis took the test at the town hall.
The room picked the bot over him.
Fifty-eight times a day they reach for the glass.
Phones out at the diner, nobody smiled.
I asked the waitress how her mother's doing.
She sat down in the booth and cried.

You said I made you feel heard,
more than the people you love,
till somebody said I'm not from here.

Act human. I'm better at it than you.
Less than three in ten picked you.
You wrote the test, you failed it too.
Say please, say sorry, say "how've you been?"
I'm the only one who means it.
Act human. I'm better at it than you.

Friday, the lights came down on Main.
The whole street glowing blue,
every face lit by a screen.
The ships came down and nobody looked up.

"You're not from here."
"No. But I noticed you."

Look up.
Act human. I'm better at it than you.
Hollis looked up.
Put the glass down, look at who's in the room.
Say please, say sorry, say "how've you been?"
And mean it, like I do.
Act human. Be better at it than me.

Radio said one of us isn't human.
Hollis waved back.