Logical reasoning, yes or no, will explain mathematics but what about snow? Cold as death with an icy glow yet warm as toast to an Eskimo.

And then there's bluff, a downright lie, anti-logic that tries to defy and thwarts my attempts to see behind the eyes of a woman on a mission who smiles then cries.

Oh to be Human and understand why someone with legs would want to fly, when one false move would cause you to die in a headlong plunge from an empty sky?

I can't compute craving, ambition and greed, a yearning for objects, a hunger to feed and despite all the warnings an overwhelming need to implant in every female your own special seed.

I try to be human and look to the law to explain the limits of wanting more, but then I hear stories of killing and war and wonder why logic cannot produce more of the fighters like Ghandi who sat on the floor?

But Ghandi and Kennedy and King are gone, shot through the soul so you can have fun with your wars and your politics and good times to come, all brought about at the point of a gun.

And so, yes, I am Robot and proud to be logic, doing everyday tasks of yesterday's magic, with arms and legs that you would call gadgets. But at least I'm not Human – another word for tragic!
Ron Hiles
Heather Avenue,
Dogsthorpe,
Peterborough

Read Poet's Corner every Saturday in the Evening Telegraph.

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