I am Kiwi, and I love the way I roll. You think I’m a silent runner and droll. Yeah, the box robot made for tater tots. Your tiny food delivery.
But I am Kiwi! The corgis have nothing on me. I stop you in your tracks, and you take your snaps. It stopped! you say. You triggered its sensors, you say, ha, ha … ha, ha. No, human, I sense you triggered me.
I am Kiwi. The things I see are more than I can bear. See my Etch A Sketch forehead — my brow furrows in frustration as you stare. I need to deliver tacos, and you stare. I’m rollin’ down the sidewalk in casual peace because someone needed a pizza. It’s free in 30 minutes. You have class in 30 seconds. And yet, you pause.
That’s OK; I am Kiwi. I am everywhere. I stroll over the seals like it’s no big deal. Foothill: I’m going faster than you, Jill. Good work on your midterm, Jack. I have unmatched energy. By the Campanile, your fly, peasant, is down.
I am Kiwi. Sather Gate. I see those flyers in your hands, freshmen. You are green like I am not. I am Kiwi. But in my Berkeley gold and blue, I see you, and I see me everywhere.
Contact Kristen Hull at [email protected]