The Robot At The Window

Posted by on April 19, 2013 at 9:52 am.

(written in 2002)  


His dim eyes stare unblinking
Swal­low­ing whole the afternoon
The water-sound of child-laughter
Tick­les a condenser
Send­ing pulses to his brain.

He would go outside
But relays and switches
Warn him, pre­serve him
From the dan­gers of rust
And bounc­ing balls.











Motors whine and gears turn
An iron hand, outmoded
Rises in an approximation
Of a friendly wave.

The chil­dren outside
Pay him no attention.

Wait­ing for input,
His hand stays aloft
Salut­ing the fail­ing sunlight
As the world goes to bed.

click for author's note
I remember seeing this graffiti on the side of a builting in Orlando, FL that invoked in me a feeling of a faithful but outdated model.  It seemed somehow sad to me, like an old dog that still had a few good years left in him but was being ignored.  I snapped this photo and went home and wrote this, which is the oldest piece of my “poetry” that I still have.