The Poe-lite Birdie

Once upon a midnight dreary, 

I find myself engaged with Siri.

On a frosty football Sunday super, 

she stirs me from my evening stupor.

I haven't asked for her advice,

yet now I hear her voice so nice.

All alone there with my Apple honey,

her heartfelt answers are on the money.

Now quite startled, I'm on my feet,

her compu-voice saying "Send a tweet."

A MySpace man in a Facebook world,

my whole existence comes unfurled.

So lonely as it rains outside,

I know that I've no place to hide.

Lacking friends and without a job,

I'm destined now to sit and sob.

But hearing me whimper, sigh, and bleat,

Siri whispers, "Send a tweet."

Now I'm waiting for a Lyft,

Siri's jealous, her voice quite miffed.

But friend that she is,

she'll still repeat,

to my cold, dark soul "Send a tweet."

I jump in my ride,

leaving phone behind.

I'm not the techno-geeky kind.

But I hear her still,

suggestion sweet,

paramour Siri: "Send a tweet."