sex robot shopping on a friday night in allentown 

you tell me you want a wife.
i do not try to say, "but i am a wife
for all intent & purposes." 
instead, i search with you. 
we sit on the bruise sofa & select
her mouth & her hands. outside
last night someone was turned into
a bouquet of fake flowers on the street corner.
now, there are caution ribbons. the ghost
of cop car lights. 
i realize i do not really know you
every time you tell me a story from
when you were younger. we share 
a little terrarium in a city of old glow.
our apartment has remnants 
of gold times. this landlord has 
painted over the box that once
could call a doorman. there is a closet nailed shut.
i do not ask questions. i just try to live.
to sleep. the neighbors fill their rooms
with sound. become organs of the dark.
your wife is beautiful. customized. ready
for purchase. where will we keep her?
in the bed between us? on the sofa
like a babysitter waiting for us
to fall asleep? you tell me you want
a dish washer. you want a 
new car. i tell you i am not eating
pennies anymore. close my eyes
& ask you if i look like her. you always
have been too honest for me. 
you say, "no." we do not buy her.
we close the webpage. you say, "someday"
& i repeat it back like a call & response. 
we spend the night without any doors. 
you ask me if i have ever wanted my own.
i lie because i don't want you 
to feel bad. i say, "yes" when i mean
"no." instead, i just crave a body
of my own. i imagine designing myself
on a sex robot website. here are my bright eyes.
my silicon skin. my mouth, shut.