toy stories

the electric dogs bark three times
& stretch their technology
at a mall kiosk. there is so much
that can be bought. the dogs repeat
the same movements over & over.
they bump into each other. 
they shuffle. their wires are fatter 
than veins. their wires
are full of a new kind of blood. 
buzzing with language. 
life begins in a register full of dimes. 
i should buy them all. 
i have too much empathy
for toys or maybe 
everyone else just doesn't have enough. 
i've always paid attention to them. 
as a child i sometimes turned into a doll. i lay still
& waited for someone to love me. 
i pulled the stuffing from the chests of stuffed animals 
to feed myself. wads of sinewy cloud
stuck in my throat. what would you do 
in order to be soft? 
i imagine the dogs loose in the mall. 
how far could they stumble? what might they become?
a flock of pigeons? a swarm of horse flies? 
a pack of real dogs? though, probably not dogs.
our transformations are seldom that clear. 
i myself have gone from girl to doll to boy
to crow to surveillance camera to boy.
batteries are always required.
i tuck them under my tongue. the robotic dogs
are jostling together. a good herd. their voices
make a unison. a tinny barking. 
i tell them they have to try harder
if they want to have bone. if they want
to be bought by passing children. children are
harder to please than it seems. i was never
a pleased child. to love a toy 
is to love a piece
of yourself. here is all my sadness
with two black eyes sewn into her face.
i have to resist sewing my wounds shut.
i am a human & these are not dogs.
these dogs are products designed
only for motion. though, i am also often
designed only for motion.
what if i am one of them? 
i bark with them in the small recorded voice
we all have waiting for us. i move
just like them. we collide bodies.
we dance for passing children
with their mouths full of quarters.