Steve’s General Store
It’s a pit-stop store just outside of town.
Steve is the robot that works the counter.
With this job, a human would have a frown.
They all died; it’s been one hundred winters.
Steve carries on like a machine would do.
He completes his duties and tasks with ease.
Better work would only be done by few.
To pass the time, he straightens the pulleys.
A bell rings as someone enters the shop.
A young machine just under a meter.
He requests an oil can for his pop.
Steve picks up one from behind to barter.
The small mechanoid counts out some silver;
Into Steve’s hand, the robot delivers.
A Thought
Jumping – to-and-fro –
Never lingering
To avoid – stagnation –
Going everywhere
Going nowhere
Traveling through time
Bringing pleasure
Bringing pain –
Oh pain
The great reminder –
To be random
Is to daydream
To dream
Is to be free
But never free of me
Expert planning –
Nefarious plotting –
Forgetting where you left
Your keys – the ignition –
The day started poorly
Whisked away
And forgotten
Only to be filled
Replaced –
By another
Manifesting
As dreams – nightmares –
Powered by a muse
A demon
Perhaps both –
Do you
Control me –
Or I you –
The brain the mind the soul
What are we –
Sometimes
You can’t trust me
When emotions are high
And self-esteem – low –
I wouldn’t trust me –
It’s harder for me
To disappear when you –
Write me down – down –
I don’t think I’ve
Ever gone up
Other times
You want to forget me
But – I don’t leave –
Those are bad days –
Haunted – by memories –
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 