At first, she cannot talk. Everything she says sounds
recorded, like I’ve heard it before. And I have.
Me siento muy excited. Donde esta el script?
She can only say what she’s said before.
Interviews, songs. Pizza, she keeps saying, pizza.
So I order us a pie. She wolfs it down.
Her skin flashes cheese and pepperoni. I turn on that Netflix
special that gives a rundown of the last thirty years of history.
There’s a horrifying dial-up sound coming from her mouth
when she learns that Princess Diana died. Then Michael Jackson.
I put a finger to my mouth and shake my head.
I know, I tell her. I know.
I don’t want her to wake up my roommates.
You call me again. I ignore.
I start to fall asleep. I am exhausted.
I leave my laptop open for her.
I do not think Selena sleeps, and anyway, when I’m around
her it’s like the TV is always on, even when it’s not.
You always said leaving the TV on is
a good way to invite spirits into the room.
All of those wavelengths, You told me.
You call me again. I turn my phone over.