Shopping at the Android Store

She's distracting, I'll give her that.
And the plastic of her thighs
sure feels like flesh.
But there, between her shoulder blades,
hidden by a bra-strap,
is a tiny door, an access point.
It's been my experience
that real women do not come with those.

But I'm getting older now.
And the younger set don't bother
with the likes of me.
She's within my price-range.
Though her conversation's limited,
that synthetic hair
sure does billow in the breeze.
And her blue eyes sparkle.
They don't do sullen.

"You won't believe how amazing
she is in bed,"
the salesman whispers in my ear.
He, no doubt, does believe
that I'm well beyond the peak of my performance.
She'll just as likely kill as please me.
Or, at least, she'll have me nodding off
when the sex is just getting started.

She'd be more of a treat
for the man I was thirty years ago,
when my libido was up front of all my drives.
Sure I remember.
I imagine.
But actually doing is another story.

So Miss BX 1246Z
won't do much for me.
Sure, she could keep my dreams company.
But they're taken by the ones I used to know.