Divorce (Poem by Clara B. Jones)

Divorce

for C.D.J. (1961-1974)

I.
It's so easy to fail. A split says it all. Put your whole life on the line. Fry eggs at six a.m. every day for five years. Soak a three-hundred dollar ring in vinegar every six months (a forever ring I believed in—diamonds never break). Follow all the rules—never go to bed angry. Then one day it's over.

C79K makes me feel good about myself.

I guess C79K is a new device he met at work. But that's not the point. We never mixed with bots. How could he throw away five years of marriage? We could have worked it out in couple's therapy. They can find a solution to any problem. Talking gets to the truth. I never had much faith in book-learning, but counselors can fix things before it's too late.

II.

I was in a holding pattern. Then P126 came along—not handsome but sturdy, someone I could

count on, a model who wouldn't call me pretty to get what they wanted, who would call me

from town to ask what I needed, who would charge my pac every day—at noon, at midnight—who knew, without question, what aging was all about, who would never mention my ex-bot, who didn't need me to pay for their tune-ups...didn't need one of those fancy devices to energize them—not looking for a mama, a handout. My rock.

They're a good Negrobot, no trouble, doesn't ask for much. Doesn't need daily upkeep like my old  model who talked too much. They're smart enough to keep me interested...new enough to last until a superior device is built.