Petting a Robot Cat Demeans Us All

The thing was terrible in the simplicity
of the idea, its blind eyes
forever pointing strangely forward,

reckless with destination, just like us
only a little weaker. I picked it up
by its head and it broke. This was not

a private revenge against cold action.
It didn't feel a thing. The audience
had just come in from the rain, draining

water from oxidized watch dials. They
had been optimistic; it's the same thing
each time they return. They formed

a committee to collect the remains.
I offered a handful of paperclips, a ball
of twine, a stick of gum freshly chewed.