Invisible, in this little glass booth

Sound enters my ear, then exits my tooth

Foreign ambassadors deliberate

Tone-deaf boss, joking inappropriate

I interpret his words just as uncouth

Then the next day, while chatting on the phone

My daughter chides, Mom, you must be a clone

You gotta know that you talk just like him

Biting words, my daughter’s criticism

My, when did my little girl get so grown

I’m a glorified spirit medium

With zero individualism

This flesh and blood microphone, echoing

Now echoes there will be a reckoning

Cue my disquieting delirium

One fine morning in a D.C. boardroom

Gaudy fluorescents like a car showroom

My boss praises its lively aesthetic

Rather, I quip the place looks synthetic

But am I still his parrot?—he’d assume

Critical meeting, time to push harder

Weeks in the making, take this stand farther

Final step of the negotiation

Needs one word—a simple affirmation

Instead, a ‘no’, barks this interpreter

Expecting sadness, yet feel elation

After immediate termination

Once trapped behind glass, my life a mirror

Echoless shards now carve a path, clearer

Wow, Mom, I love your new transformation