MY GRANPA

Shiny, silvery loving and strong.

Carbon fiber, aluminum, titanium,

controlled nano-chipped-face-flushed.

That’s my granpa.

Bio rhythms, any color he feels, he is,

Today silver, later green, red…

or almost invisible cloaked,

only his voice spoken,

hide and seek, then time for bed.

He reflects the sun so bright,

the moon the stars at night,

The trees in the forest,

cars go by.

****

My Granpa, I hold his finger silver as we walk.

I’m pinkish and in the sun too long, brown.

****

He talks about today, tomorrow, and yesterday

He’s very old they say;

new shiny-bright, silvery, his face smiles.

if you look closely do you begin to see,

you’d never know,

Only his eyes

they show something else again.

I ask but the answer I get,

“Living long does that,” makes no sense to me.

But Granpa, he’s there, not like dad or mother,

like me!

He said he accepted the mods, one of the first.

He looks down at me and whispers

in my ear, a tickle of a sound,

“hybrid, human brain and bot.”

I look up to him a lot,

He’s still my granpa is he not?

So what’s all the talk about?

I may be young but I wonder

what all the changes do:

Chipped and flesh,

I can’t wait until I get my turn

A hybrid human being chipped

like Granpa and then me?

how do they mesh?

to choose:

****

We know, and as others

suited up fine, the same,

hybrid, thoughts of evolution.

Just the next steps in the mud.

follow,