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Oh Robot! My Robot! You’ve broken off your nose!

Your head is spinning round and round, your eye no longer glows,

Each program after program tapped your golden memory,

You used to have 12K, now there is none that I can see,

Under smoldering antennae,

Over long forgotten feet,

My sister used your last part:

The chip she tried to eat.

Oh Robot, My Robot, the remote controls—they call,

The call—for you it sounds, for you it rebounds off the wall.

For you, new oilcans, LCDs, for you, the TV’s mourning,

They miss you, stuck-up piece of junk, for you, they’ve been adorning

The torn and tattered cardboard box

That used to be your home;

A rumor: Other robots get

A geodesic dome.



My Robot has no logic, and he can’t slide to and fro,

He cannot see or hear what will come after him, but so?

Like robots who were No-bots, he’ll leave no transistor trail;

The Invisible X-Matic comes to say no word of hail,

The other Techni-Gadgets

Join in Colorific chants;

They’ll get over the misfortune

Of when Robot tried to dance.



© 1987, 2015 Jason M. Sachs, all rights reserved.