• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 09
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My Robot

skin forgets thy softness
At least me snout works,
I can smell tha cherry lips,
and strawberry perfume.

When my old bod got weak
and fell down more than stood up
tha had me swap to this robot job.

with "flexible skin-inspired touch sensors
as store tactile information,
like haptic memory"
or some such, as manual said.

Store touch sensations
in my brain, like what
old one used to.

Few decades on, this grip
no longer delicate,
damages stuff like fruit,

your skin smells of strawberries.
I used to be able to
remember it soft,
but "soft's" only a word,
with no memory
of what it meant
or means.


My Robot

My skin stored
a handshake from a particular person,
their kiss, their hugs.

It forgets now.
Squeezes too hard.
Hurts thee, and I can
do nowt about it,
'cept keep away from thee.

Robot doctor has it my skins
pressure-sensitive layer no longer
changes in electrical resistance
when force applied.
Wants us to spend more cash,
us can ill afford for the cure.

Sensors retain information
for about a week, if that.

My record of touch,
It's touch memory loss.
I squash a lot of fruit.

I cannot touch thee.

Bloody tear ducts work.