—I’ve got that on my radar.
—Me, too.
—Do other people have it on their radars?
—Everyone has this on his or her radar.
—Remember the days of no radar?
—What was there, if there was no radar?
—Carburetors?
—Faithfulness?
—Heh heh heh.
—Heh heh heh.
—When my girlfriend moved in, she kept her radar.
—More women are keeping their radars these days.
—Do you see blips?
—Only when I stand up too quickly.
—Sometimes when I’m alone, I hear applause.
—Maybe you’ve got The Clap.
—Okay, I’ve got that on my radar.
—Do you have it on your sonar?
—Should I have it on my sonar?
—The sea ice, after all, is melting. . . .
—Do you have that on your deep space probe?
—I’m not sure I care for that phrase.
—(…)
—(…)
—Does man drum in the woods?
—Do you drum in the woods?
—I have no drum. There are no woods.
—Then, you must throw percussion to the wind!
2 comments:
This is another poem. Whether you like it or not.
I am a robot, but I can't prove that I'm a robot.
I'm grateful for your kind words, Not-Robot, they mean a lot.
I think that Isaac Asimov would have difficulty in this environment, or maybe Will Smith would. I think that Will Smith was miscast though in I, Robot. There should've been a heavy set white fraternity guy.
Then, they could've called the movie ---- I, Brobot.
All righty. I've really enjoyed your poems that you've been linking us to, of late. I hope to read more of them!
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