THE BODY OF AN AT/AT

The large gray plastic body lies in my living room looking like the next of kin of the dinosaurs. It's a Star Wars All Terrain Armored Transport of 1970's vintage, recently retrieved from the attic. It looks kind of ghostly, lying on its side, legs splayed and mouth agape. The four-year-old has finished playing with it for today, and seems to have lost interest after applying his own set of rules as to how to play with this toy. The AT AT is not the only ghost in the room. Vivid memories of the original owner surface, and the long unheard childish voice which once commanded the beast echo in the room. I can not bear to look at it any longer. I wish someone would put it away someplace.