Medium,  Poetry


A poem.

What if I still cry
during intractable conversations
when I am old
in my professional career?

Would you prefer
People replacers
with calculators

With age, wisdom
does not
automatically bestow
itself upon you.

Emotional intelligence is
not tapped into
like a keg.

Perhaps you would
prefer it to be?

Your wasted weekends,
would be useful.
Guzzling endless
bouts of Condescending
Cantankerous Control.â„¢

My supposed naiveté
is no worse than
your washed up
metallic parts.

At least
I am not a robot.

Previously published in The POM

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