Methodology

I always pictured
the scientists wild-haired,
an unexplained plasma
ball reflecting in eyes
so Charles Manson wide
and some amount of cackling
and cries of “it’s alive!”
allowed, and the rest
of humanity stands
around all astounded
(there should be oohs)
and we’d rush out
to use whatever widget
or flubber or thing
akin to magic
made by machines
that could be featured
on a particularly vivid
episode of Sesame Street
and lo, the stentorian
voiced commercial for Time
Travel in a Box and I
would have sent my brother
to 1803 and am certain
I wouldn’t miss him at all.

Instead there are computers
and math and more math,
and a marked lack of cackling
(though I don’t miss the eyes)
and we sit across the table
and I think she looks like
someone you’d see
at Starbucks and not
while people watching
just waiting for a skinny latte
and I’m bored and she sighs
and says “usability?”
in a voice like I’d use
if someone wanted to put
brains in my tea
(and not “brains!”
like Igor. Maybe something
more sheepy and grey),
and she is smart but
not crazy and we both
know what she finds
will mean only
that someone else
will do more research.
And she doesn’t know
(but I do) Joe is safe.