poem about being a robot


Grey screen goes blank
promptly at 14:10 I walk
past three pink stalls
into the fourth where
I hang up my coat
pull my scarf and shirt over
head careful not to strangle
in wires. I unhook
electrodes first: red, white, green,
blue, brown, then pull off tape slowly.
Each time I rip
a new tear forms, dangling
down my cheek until no more
wires entangle me. I wrap
the monitor safely, tuck it away,
dispose tape, march past pink stalls,
to the lobby where I join human people
waiting for human popcorn,
to attend a human movie
where I can forget for 120 minutes
that I am a blinking robot
malfunctioning without warning
only blending in with citizens
who possess bloody human hearts.



photograph by xvire1969

The Writers Manifesto


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