"can you think of something that talks... other than a person?"

hot dogs melting on the kitchen counter, the cats talking up a haze, as I consider the possibilities.
Are you sure I couldn't just exist and people would know that I love them?
They could call me and I would listen.
I would forget my wretched self in their troubles and tra-la-la's.
"oh, hello dad. hello mom. thought I might find you here"

I'd write but I'm too tired... too human... too trite, contrived
what do I have to offer?
Can I really be this self-demeaning when really I am (was) so inspired and joyous (!)?
"wipe that smile off you're face... get back to your post... shields up."
it is never enough