motion. | completed

minus twenty-four

all this time you were
the owner; you held me
by my plastic arms and you
dressed me in plastic
clothes.

you found me in the woods;
sitting on the ground mossy
with distaste; my plastic eyes
staring vacantly;
at you as you picked me up and
carried me away; to the
mountains. away from
my sanity.

there, i was a
machine. you cut
me open;
oiled my hinges. closed up my
wounds. fixed my skin and
set me down on my
rickety feet which
had not seen the familiar
love of the earth in
oh, so long. and
i embraced it; planting my plastic
roots into my old life and
stretching my plastic
arms into my
new one. up to
you.

i let my rust
s p r i n k l e off,
let my jammed circuits
correspond to your
language. for you.

and you took me and
left me in your glass
display, with your heart and the
millions of other toys you'd
reprogrammed.

and you locked us up and
we sat on the shelves,
waiting for you to
pick us up again.