My Metal Man

I never got to know that man; I never got to meet him.

There we were in a crowded place, now, how shall I begin? He was a jaunty tall fellow with a crisp black shirt. Bright blue eyes, alert. He smiled at me, right through the sea of dressed-up people. He was wearing a black bowler hat, brass steampunk goggles strung around his neck. Put them on to see through green, he looked like a mechanical wreck. Black buttoned-up shoes with spats and brown hair, so slick. Straight and agate, I almost did trip into his slender arms (but I didn’t.) I never got to speak a word. We only talked through eyes. In that moment. In that dim but crowded room, curiosity took me by surprise. I lost him in the crowd, leather gloves and all. Clean-shaven face, so striking and yet something was off and I couldn’t stop staring. But the, as the concert closed to an end, he came to me (by pretend) or maybe not, for if it so my heart just shuttered. I thought, does he know? We smashed into each other, accidently. His gangly look was quite—dainty? He helped me up off the hardwood floor, with gloved hands, wanting more. I stared at him, dumbfounded. He wouldn’t keep his eyes off mine. It was sterilized sublime.
I noticed, then, as we pushed through the crowd, hand-in-hand, still quite loud. On his neck protruding were metal cogs. His face had broken its once fleshy facade. Peeling it off, I saw that he was part robot quite deeply underneath. We rushed to a clearing under the stars the night was cold (wherever we were). He took off his goggles to look at me once more. I stood still, like a bore, trying hard to ignore how I felt; enthralled. Engrossed, alarmed. His gold belt buckle shined in the dim light and I noticed his cheeks were etched in copper streaks like a shell of shiny metal. He told me, asked me if I recognized who he was, and I said, no. then shrugging away, he left to go. Hey wait! I called and almost heard his metal legs clanking whenever he turned. He looked my way, once again. Leaned down, real close, and seriously said—You know me—Some part, Somewhere—and then he ripped off his mask completely and underneath the rubber skin I saw who he really was.


A metal man; robotic steed. Quiet, but hearty for my poor heart to lead. Every alloy shined, every cog glimmered. Oil sheened where his long hair differed. I squinted close, to see that his hair was actually thick dark cable wires stuffed under his round topped black bowler hat. He removed his gloves to reveal shimmering silver/gold hands, so smooth. Each finger carefully removed and placed together so effortlessly. He swung his neck and faced me then, struck a match within and—kissed me.

My mouth felt all tingly when metal touched mine, a spark was made, with hot steam lips mixed breath brigade. I broke away, aghast, amazed. And there he left me, a crazy daze. I wandered home, stuck in a haze. A Steampunk man got me so crazed. Now, in bed, I toss and turn. All I do is yearn and yearn. For the blower hat man and all his shiny tricks. Was he truly a robot, or was it all just a gimmick? My real heart leaps out way out-of-bounds for a robotic person I saw one night in town.

I never got to know that man, I never got to meet him.

The only thing I have is the ghostly taste of metal in my mouth. He had a surprisingly cold steel tongue. Will I ever see him again? My Metal Man…