The Beauties on the Beach
They're all androids.
That's why they all have perfect bodies,
and they can lie out in the sun all day
and not burn,
just bronze evenly all over.
Even the one with the long red hair.
I must confess that,
as I stroll the beach,
gazing at their flawlessness,
they do excite me,
make me want one for my own.
They're not embarrassed when I stare.
These faux-women are out to sell themselves.
And any guy, with a fat enough wallet,
is a potential customer.
But there's something holds me back,
this feeling that a partner without fault
is all fault,
that I'd live with the constant anxiety
of her being too good to be true,
too good for my truth,
yes, a gathering place
for all of my admiration,
but impossible to love.
I miss Shana,
the endearing scar above her right eye,
the crooked tooth
that took her smile to warmer,
more human places,
the slight plumpness to her midriff,
and the shyness,
the slight mismatch to her eyes
that made her special.
Her recall was the saddest day of my life.
The Android Company would never understand.
Long before their scientists got it right,
they really got it right.