(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.
I remember seeing this graffiti on the side of a builting in Orlando, FL that invoked in me a feeling of a faithful but outdated model.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.