old robot in a junkyard sits rusting
remembers in its atom heart loves lost
women of mars it groped with claws lusting
for pulp covers posing and what that cost
now washed up after the hey-day, no T
V show to go to he eats cars like nachos
drinks oil by the gallon, sucks battery
like cigarette, and begins to doze...
has dreams about the time he wiped out flies
and all the moaning about bluebells and tits,
who knew they were maggot-symbiotic?
poor robot sleeps badly snores catastrophic
the world collapses, but a new one is born
buried in vehicles as he expires his heart explodes
Age alters us in many useful ways
upset, we do not go sleepless to bed
now we have that perspective, hey hooray
nor will it echo in the dreaming head
will not wake us at 3.00 am the call
to make, o no, rationalization
kicks in. We will not revisit the Fall.
It helps if you have lost the telephon.
The flower of my youth is flown, blown
to the winds many friends
the fruits of age swell like bunions
but we no longer lose friends over silly things