what it means to be human

you’ll erase emily’s dashes really

fast. then jasper’s dollar signs.

and pointillism dots. and kerouac

ellipses. and vonnegut asterisks.

then commas so we never pause

just hyperventilating bobbleheads

staggering latenight and cashless

through new york’s avenues

bouncing off turnstiles and rejected

by revolving doors and ubers

while billboards sizzlepop as

mr. clean’s magic eraser scrubs

history clean (of us) and circled a’s

and exclamation marks drop

extinct overnight wave goodbye

goodbye to hyphens and # @ %.

but when a robot replaces

me i’ll wave goodbye only

i won’t look backwards:

hello hello hello i’ll wave

imagining feeding cardinals 

and nuthatches and jays and

goldfinches and at night

looking out my backyard spotlit

window i’ll roll over

still next to a woman named 

tara and a dog named dune

and curl my knees toward

her chest because life still fills

my insides like a snow globe.

so go ahead robots

monitor all screens and

blow up children with joy

sticks and what happened

to question marks oh ha

you still can’t see

inside my

skull where

my brain keeps

my foggy soul.