Written by Greg Giovannini
They say he’s sixteen and still collects toys.
They say his Transformers sit in neat little rows arranged by height,
From Bumblebee to Optimus Prime.
They say he believes in aliens and robots.
They say he’s not a child of God;
Moreover, that he disproved God’s existence in his seventh-grade history class.
They say he can solve a Rubix Cube in four seconds.
They say he studied Euler and Fermat while learning to read,
And cracked Einstein’s tensors before ten.
They say he smiles funny, that he broke half his teeth from smiling so much.
They say he’s chipper all the time,
And his smile’s so big, people think he’s Mormon.
They say he’s genetically enhanced, a freak government-experiment.
They say he’s an alien himself,
Green Martian-skin hiding under that human disguise.
They say he’s sick, that his head is going to explode one day.
They say he surely won’t live to twenty.
They say it’s alright, he doesn’t have feelings anyway;
Which is all a shame, because I saw him on the playground yesterday,
Alone in the metal-barred tower, happy.