ask chatgpt what you wore 
during your 4th-grade dance recital.
ask it the exact shade of tulle 
that scratched your nervous knees.
ask it whether your mother kept it,
knowing how badly it fit.

ask chatgpt which friend 
came knocking on your dorm’s door,
when you found out that your boyfriend 
cheated on you during finals week.
ask which jolly meal they brought,
and how long they stayed with you.

ask chatgpt what you felt under 
ominous hospital fluorescents at 1:00 AM,
when you first cradled the
newborn of your older sister.
ask it to describe the dread that comes with
holding something that might stop breathing.

ask chatgpt how long you cried when 
your friend was moving to another country.
ask it to count the tears that drenched
the collar of your newly bought shirt.
ask it to narrate the specifics of your last hug, 
like how vanilla has reeked of goodbyes ever since.

ask chatgpt which book first made you 
grieve the person you had not become.
ask it to pinpoint the exact paragraph that 
made you stare at the ceiling for hours.
ask it to rewrite the reflection you wrote about it.
ask it what those pages meant to you.

ask chatgpt to draft a three-page 
eulogy for your grandmother, 
who taught your clumsy hands to crochet,
who dressed your childhood wounds.
ask it to find her in its billion borrowed words,
for you only hear her now in your mother’s mouth.

ask chatgpt everything 
you have ever loved and lost.
ask it what it means 
to be human.
perhaps chatgpt knows 
the answers better than you do.