Inflatable Man

I charged him.
With a point and a click,
He was mine
And soon delivered
In a plain brown wrapper.

I let him out
And helped him stretch his legs.
His arms reached out and his
Head slowly lifted from his shoulder
He became fully formed—a man.

We danced that night,
My inflatable man and I.
His was the scent was of suppleness and
I knew he would never complain about
The funky jazz I like.

As I scooted across the floor
In worn, faded slippers,
His cold skin
Rubbed against mine
With pleasant, plastic farts.

Propped in the corner
Of the sofa
He waited for me,
So patiently,
In the evenings.

His frozen smile
Warmed me.
I shared Krispy Cremes
With him and used my pinkie
To wipe the frosting
From his mouth.
.
We were so happy.
I basked and flourished
Within the warmth of
His silent approval.

But then, oh, but then…

When he began to go flat,
I knew it was because
He was unreliable, selfish
And inconsiderate.

Certainly it was not because
I had been pricking
Him with pinholes
Every day.