He stands on the margin between the alley, and the volleyball court, next to the forest green electrical box, his very own robot buddy. After all these years I am shocked to notice him there, poised for intergalactic exploration, his left-most meter either an appendage or alien oculus, the rusting rectangular metal box on his back full of wires, maybe space snacks as well, photos of the wife he left a long time ago and the kids who have all grown so much as all around him–light, either from some alien star or our own, winter light, middle clime, splendor, in this ordinary place.