AI,
paint me Mona Lisa
without a smile,
no dimples,
without a brush,
and with no paints.

But retain her eyes —
they wink at me with Mediterranean lure.

Let her hair run, through horses’ mane,
the gamut of Italian renaissance,
and with the eloquence of a hairless brush.

The leitmotif must be love without a smile,
for some smiles are as unreal as fake news.

I frequent Da Vinci’s grave,
from moonwax to moonwane,
with the tablet of knowledge
where it’s written that, in spite of
the speed of Artificial Intelligence,
human stupidity is well and truly ahead.