Electric Dreams

Her limbs are well oiled,
Slick with chrome plates
And a motor that hums
Like a diesel truck.

Hunched over, the
Ticking noise is a heart,
Like clockwork, beating
Sixty beats per minute.

The legs splayed out
Like two monkey bars,
Metal ball heels
Pressing against the concrete.

She hears the tick,
Small iron digits pressed
Against her knees, tapping
Sixty beats per minute.

Her marble eyes fog,
And her breaths are tiny vapors
Puffed into the air like
Filtered cigarette smoke.

The chrome heartbeat,
A polished tick-tock.
The syncopation slows
No longer, sixty beats per minute.

And eyes like polished agate
Retreat into electronic dreams,
The power button flashing
Neon blue.

Ω

Editor’s Corner

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