Just shift gears, she tells herself
as the jets flicker overhead.
She knows they're watching her
body betray her with their
telescopic sights trained
on her circuitry.

The voices behind the freeway
and screams beneath the trains
drill into her receptors. She
jams her thoughts into reverse,
grinding her sensors into the
folds of clothing protecting
her exterior from the center.

Flipping channels used to suffice,
but now the canned laughter and
prerecorded messages only suggest
double entendre and accusation.
Dreaming becomes the vehicle of change
while rows of pick-up trucks
watch her machinery perform
the rituals of the human form.