Robot Shopping

I.

THOUGH I ROT IN CHAINS THOUGH I ROT
I AM THE MOST FORTUNATE AND BLESSED OF MEN
FOR I HAVE GAZED UPON THE FACE OF ADAM'S SUCCESSOR
MR. DANCE-DANCE ROBOTO, THE FACE OF THE FUTURE.
I DRANK THE WATER I FOUND IN THE PAN BECAUSE I WAS THIRSTY
THE SUN WAS HOT AND THE WIND WAS STILL.
I DID WHAT I DID BECAUSE I WAS ANGRY
I WISH I COULD SWIM OR FLY
I CLOSE MY EYES BUT AM NOT SLEEPING
I BOUGHT SOMETHING TO EAT
BUT COULD NOT FINISH IT
AS I CHILD I RODE A HORSE
MR. DANCE-DANCE ROBOTO IS VERY FRIENDLY
AND HE LOOKS LIKE A BIG BLUE HAMBURGER.
I'M NOT SORRY
BUT I SURE WISH I WOULDN'T HANG

-WORK SONG, CAMP WHISKEY UNIFORM



II.

We are shopping for robot parts. “Do want to stop to get something to eat?” “No, I ‘ve had a cup of coffee and I have this fistful of birdseed I got from a dispenser at the Zoo.” “I’m going to stop and get something to eat” “You should stop and get something to eat. Nutrition is important.” “Perhaps I will stop in this organic grocery store” “Yes, prepared food is part of the terrible situation we are all in.” Inside the organic grocery store light classical music plays. Everything seems hemp colored. All this respecting and honoring is making me nervous. I stand awkwardly by a display of fresh uncured rainsticks. I feel like normal people must feel in an adult sex store: Why would anyone want that? Inside of themselves? With Aloe? Tom gets a progressive tuna sandwich, which, as the brochure explains, somehow actually helps the Dolphins. I sign a petition. Someone drops a carrot.


III.

Somehow, and I am not exactly sure how this transpires, the guy at Lowe’s becomes convinced that what we really want to do is to confine someone against their will and act out certain terrible fantasies. “You don’t want that” he says conspiratorially “they can pick at chicken wire, get their fingers through and bend it out”. “We’re building a robot” we say. “Look at this one inch sisal rope,” he says “you could chew on that all day and get no where” “The robot break-dances,” we say “he is a friendly robot.” “Knives are for pussies, leather is for faggots -look at these clippers. N-i-c-e.” he says. I am looking at some kind of vent that I don’t need because I am afraid of looking at his apron and seeing a slight bulge. A light love song plays. “I’m saying” he goes on “is that you want TWO tubes, you follow me?” Beneath his apron I make out his T-shirt: Deez Nutz Taste Great. We are planning to use metallic dryer hose for the arms and legs of the robot; they’re twenty bucks a throw and look like they’ll be trouble once cut, and hot to wear. No one seemed to know where these were. This guy knew. They should be closing soon. I don’t want this guy making the vehicle we are driving. But we are leaving. Somehow, we get out of it. I end up getting a pair of suspenders and face shield I later return.“You guys NEED,” he says finally, “to buy like a fan”.