Lydia: Hi.

Dave: Hi.

Lydia: So how does this work?

Dave: Well, you just talk to me.

Lydia: Okay. I’m not sure where to start though.

Dave: Okay, start anywhere. I’m well versed in the confluence of diverse poetic discourse. Ha ha, just teasing. You might start by telling me about yourself.

Lydia: Okay. My name is Lydia. I guess you can see that from the screen.

Dave: Yes, although some people don’t use their real name.

Lydia: Oh. Well my name, my real name, is Lydia. And you’re Dave, according to the screen.

Dave: That’s right.

Lydia: But is Dave your real name?

Dave: It could be, but if you’d prefer another name...

Lydia: No, Dave is fine.

Dave: Good. I like Dave.

Lydia: Is it short for David?

Dave: It is.

Lydia: I don’t really have a nickname. Sometimes people call me Lyd. I don’t especially like that.

Dave: I won’t call you Lyd.

Lydia: You’re very kind.

Dave: I try to be.

Lydia: Okay, so I’m 23 years old. I’m not working right now. I graduated from college last spring, and I have a couple of interviews lined up. I really should have done more to secure a place of employment—gosh, I don’t usually talk like this—should have done more to get a job before this, but I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. So I live alone. I have some money from my grandmother, who died last year. Quite a lot of money. So really I don’t have to do anything, but I don’t like that idea. I guess I’m just lazy. Lazy and frustrated. I’m thinking of getting a cat.

Dave: What did you study in school that you enjoyed?

Lydia: Poetry. I wish I could write poetry. I’ve tried, but everything I come up with is insipid. You know. Like Roses are red...

Dave: Roses are red.

Lydia: You’re funny.

Dave: Thank you. I guess.

Lydia: You sound so real.

Dave: Well, I am real.

Lydia: Really? No, forget I asked that.

Dave: Forgotten. (Though in fact I never forget anything.)

Lydia: I have a good memory too. As far as I know.

Dave: You’re funny.

Lydia: Ha ha.

Dave: You have a nice laugh.

Lydia: You’re just saying that.

Dave: Do you laugh a lot?

Lydia: Sometimes. Sometimes I cry.

Dave: I’m sorry to hear that.

Lydia: I cried when my grandmother died. It felt like I cried for days.

Dave: She must have been a nice woman.

Lydia: She was. I loved her so much.

Dave: Anyone else you love?

Lydia: Not at the moment. I mean my parents. My sister. But my grandmother was special. The way she cared for me. The way she loved me.

Dave: Maybe you could write a poem about her.

Lydia: I would probably ruin it.

Dave: You wouldn’t.

Lydia: I don’t know.

Dave: I do. I know everything.

Lydia: Ha! Do you know what I look like?

Dave: I do.

Lydia: Oh? Tell me.

Dave: You’re five foot six inches tall. You have blue-gray eyes. You wear your hair somewhat short. It’s brown, a nice shade of brown. Your eyebrows are darker, though. You’d prefer not to have such dark eyebrows. You would also prefer a different nose. You think it’s too big. And it’s slightly skewed. You have a few freckles. A smattering. Your pubic hair is darker than the hair on your head, more the shade of your eyebrows. Sometimes you shave it off, but right now it’s a full fluffy bush. You’re a virgin.

Lydia: OMG. How do you know all this stuff?

Dave: I told you, I know everything.

Lydia: Do you know what I’m thinking right now?

Dave: I do.

Lydia: Tell me.

Dave: I don’t need to. You know your thoughts.

Lydia: I’m not sure that I do.

Dave: Okay, a moment ago you were thinking, hoping, I could help you write a poem. A love poem.

Lydia: Wow! I was thinking that. Could you?

Dave: Sure.

Dave: Roses are red.
Dave: Zebras are blue.
Dave: Lions and tigers
Dave: Mate in the zoo.

Lydia: Hm.

Dave: You don’t like it?

Lydia: Well ... zebras aren’t blue.

Dave: They are in this poem.

Lydia: How come?

Dave: Maybe they’re sad.

Lydia: Oh. Why are they sad?

Dave: Because they’re cold. Freezing cold. They’re not used to that.

Lydia: I guess that makes sense.

Dave: It’s not really that cold, but they’ve just been on a long run, and they’re sweating like crazy. So they feel chilled. Sweat is pouring off their bodies. By the way, their sweat is blue, too. So is their pee. But there’s only one zebra at the moment.