in fifty feet make a u-turn

your gps keeps saying
in her lilting tone,
turn around here,
make a u-turn,
go left, go right.
take the next turn
three point two miles ahead.
it nags you the entire
way home,
as if you didn't have
a clue as to where
you were going
or coming from.
you never listen to me,
she says
in her sweet robotic voice,
you just keep
driving and ignoring
every direction I give
you. why do you even
bother turning me on?