by Nick Gisburne
Immortal though the metal man may be
His everlasting brain is made of wax
And thus, in terms of temperature, we see
Within his body’s blueprints there are cracks
A knife will never penetrate the chest
No barrier, no door, can fight his fist
But sunny days are something of a test
With tea and hot potatoes on the list
To stem the steam of summer to the brain
The well-to-do young ladies shovel snow
For this alone alleviates the pain
Of molten mind-wax, warm enough to flow
Investigating errors of design?
Be sure to note the cardboard in the spine
