A Postcard from the Robotic Boatsman to his Cyclical Lover
Sorry, but I can’t spare any hope.
And anyway my boat’s already been covered up.
There will be no more oceans today. Just rain
and full stomachs, just temporary companions
and this zipped-up sky. You want too much
but so do I. When you point a laser in the dirt
I pounce on it for hours. And when you feed me I love you
until you switch me off again. I bark and roar on command
but I am not programmed for reassurance. If I was, I would tell you
that you have options. Folding laundry and unfolding it again.
Eating food and later eating food again. There are drugs
and rollercoasters, postcards you could send. I can only speak
from experience, but some nights I was brought to gatherings
and made to read poems about the loneliness of the sea, and afterwards
the applause was somewhere between polite and fulfilling, afterwards I got laid
to rest and dust. But know that they got it wrong,
about how it is to be. I did ride my boat along a great many seas
but it’s not that I was alone, it’s just that there was nobody with me.
Listen. I love you like the hedge loves the gardener who whistles
while she cuts. And I know you like the shine of a circuit just starting to wake up.
And tonight, I hear the rain pounding at the window again
to be let in, to be held, to be warmed by the fire. And I try to explain to it
that an incomplete life is what you want, that a complete life is
finished completely. But the rain wants to know everything about hope,
so I tell it You know honey, I think everything will turn out just fine
and I hold it to me drenching. I drink what I can before it dries.
Varieties of Containers
I was in a room without a trashcan or rather it feels anachronistic
to call a trashcan a trashcan cuz it’s rarely like a “can” usually
it’s more plastic or maybe even like woven straw (weird)
which to me is simply not “can” material maybe a “bin”
anyway it’s just like lunch boxes I had a lunch box as a kid it was purple
just solid purple with no dinosaurs which was fortunate
but it wasn’t really a hard thing it was a lil floppy soft thing
and so it felt weird calling it “lunchbox” cuz boxes are solid and metal
or maybe cardboard who am I to judge it was more of a lunch “container”
but really the shift from metal to plastic has changed a lot of things
for language and children and the robots of the future will probably be plastic
Plastic Astro Boy we can call him Plastroboy or Plastic MegaMan
I don’t have a pun for that and also MegaMan is not a robot
although it is worth wondering if a robot is a bin, a box, or none
of the above but let me get back to what I was saying I was in a room
with a box of Kleenex but there was no trashcan
so I sat and I thought for a while about varieties of containers
then the pleasant man came in and told me how today
nobody new would be dying