You poke something. Why?
I like to touch things.
I wanted it to come alive.
I’m good at poking things.
It fascinated me.
It was an accident.
It was the button to launch a nuclear missile.
My hand is robotic and I lost the remote.
The sign said, “Do Not Touch.”
To announce that I was here by leaving my fingerprint.
To drive the person next to me crazy.
To make a hole in it.
You told me to.