Poetry by
Gregory McIntyre

We’re nearing the reef. Good grief! We really need a side to pick. Quick. You round up all the girl bots. I have an idea. Let’s give it a whirl. Boys and girls will have a dance off! Then the chance of the boy bots winning Will be the same as the wheel left-spinning. But if the girl bots win the fight We’ll steer this old girl right. A’right?

Such a plan was very bold But, all told, the lonely bots upon the shore, Blowing their ducts with actuators, Would have to wait And wait some more.