ROBOT #8 (A WRINKLE IN THE LANDSCAPE)

JENNIFER MACBAIN-STEPHENS

 
 

The Robot as a child was a gleaming piece of sheet metal. More reflective than a bicycle chain at night he (it) dreamed of more, not content to lay down in scrap, snoozing at auto body shops. His (its) chance came during an art class shopping trip. He (it) was picked up, fondled, put into a bag, driven to a second location. He got into the education system and soon his contagious energy made the transition to college. He was such a live wire. He was in control of his own destiny, his own gadgets and macros. If only he knew how to impulsively shout, squeeze out a tear.

 

 
 

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