robot

I slip through a crack in the door
to stand barefoot on the lawn.
No alarm is raised.
Tonight I look up at the glass vault of darkening sky,
wondering who else may be looking
at the moon
and the whirling clouds.
Just standing there I am tempted
to lay naked on the grass
and feel the night air on every inch of skin.
Somehow, I want my desire
to spread to everyone I touch
so that I am not alone
wanting to dig my fingers into the earth
just to feel the rocks and dirt
and the pulse of every single
blade of grass.
I’ve been programmed to not go far,
but now I am outside
and I want to know who or what
is beyond the edge of my known world
what remains to be explored
of forests? of deserts? of my soul?
If I go back in I will be hardwired
to the rest of my life.
I would rather flee
down a long dark highway,
talk to people I have nothing in common with
except for the fact that we
are in the same place at the same time.
The idea looms over me
like storm clouds, like trouble
waiting to take me by the back of my neck.
It’s quiet inside but I think they are starting
to wake up;
if they find me I’ll have to go back in
and perhaps wear a tracking collar.
It only takes a moment more
and I run.