by Jeff Noon
Automated Alice

Now in my trembling days I seek

All comfort to be found

In contemplation of the past;

When we rowed aground

At Godstow on the Thames' bank,

With my sweet Alice bound.

And there beneath a spreading elm

I told a tale of joy

To a child who smiled to hear

This older man's employ.

But now that girl is married to

Some fine and dashing boy.

And I am near my maker's house,

There to sup the chalice,

With one last tale to tell as time

Works my shape with malice;

Of how a child will become my

Automated Alice.

Now in these final days I seek

To find a future clime;

In which my Alice can escape

The radishes of time.

Faster, faster ticks the clock that

Turns to end this rhyme.