Malfunction

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.