Saturday, November 28, 2015

POEM: "A robot convention"

"A robot convention"

A robot convention. Doesn’t matter
they pick a mango. Pick their nose
you know I go as far as I can.
Come in, he says. A person leaves.
Everyone so hungry. My idiom for idiots
it's illegal to operate without permission
I hold the door for the poem. That’s all.
Just float through a window in the roof
maybe you hear one hand clapping
maybe you can see your original face.
How different the sky is when you don’t look up.

© 2015 Rob Schackne

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