A Child in the future with a Pop Gun

A robot
In a swimsuit

Is no
Astronaut

Gathers up
All four eyes
To gaze
At you

Slim as a volcano

Tear gas
For a heart.

The mechanical shadows of
Robot leaves
Hurry on tiny legs.

And of footsteps that fly.

Birds whose wooded brains
Trail into galaxies.

To begin in these cursive lights no
Taller than fireflies, are the names
Not yet in books, proceed.

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