Her skin smelled like a distant field of flowers
and silicone combined.
Her hair gleamed like the showers
of meteors Earth rushes through. What mind
directed her green eyes, her smile, her voice
to lure me to move toward her?
I really had no choice,
the way she worked! Yet I could not afford her.
I’d won her at a raffle years ago.
She kept me company
and loved me like a pro.
The drawback was she had no warranty.
I sensed something amiss with her last Monday:
We were sitting on the couch
sharing a hot-fudge sundae
when, ouch! — she kicked me, then began to grouch
that she was craving a bananas Foster,
tears spilling down her cheeks.
That’s when I knew I’d lost her.
Already weeks before I’d heard faint creaks
and squeaks when she would pick things up or walk
around the block. I knew
the end was near. The clock
inside her robot heart was overdue
to be replaced. But being in a state
of penury, I hurled
that marvel of a mate
to the curb as if I’d tossed away the world!
It’s not so bad — I still have my warm spouse,
who seldom shares her heat.
Yet she’ll remove her blouse
for another in this house who she calls Pete.
Right now my wife is cuddling with her droid.
Tonight must be as cold
as ice on an asteroid!
It’s not so bad — there’s still the dog to hold.
—Martin Elster, West Hartford, CT