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Spadina Literary Review  —  edition 7 page 01

verse

Moving average

by Quinten Whitt

marching in straight lines to the subway
every goddam morning a workbot
goddam workbot
slogging to the subway every day

brainwashed mutant never be free
victim of the corporate age
minion snared in a deep dark age
nowhere to flee

here comes Jimmy with his cane feeling his way
wobbly legs and he's three-quarters blind
how you doing Jimmy I say
I’m OK he smiles I’m OK he says
that’s his job to be crippled and blind
and to say every day that he’s doing OK

pile thru the stiles my fellow bots
go with the flow in your daily trance
wait for the train in your daily trance
burrow under the city to your workbot spot

I used to sit at the very front when I was a kid
watching tunnels streak past and stations come up
and sometimes bursting out into bright daylight
when I played hooky when I was a kid

move it, workbot

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