ode to an automaton

a quiet humming
filters through the air.
it’s low, near
imperceptible. i
wouldn’t know it was
there
if i didn’t listen
for it.

your eyes remain
fixed,
still –
your tone, flat.
your motions stay
precisely mechanical –
your words as
few
as masterpieces.

tell me,
robot girl:
when were you
(de)programmed?

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