What a Cyborg Wants
What a cyborg wants is to work perfectly.
To simulate pleasure perfectly. To not cry at dinner,
forget to call back. To keep her skin clear.
To keep the sheets clean. To reply-all when asked.
To get up at a reasonable hour. To stop smoking,
or at least get it down to something reasonable.
To not worry her friends by worrying about her weight.
To not be so afraid.
To not pick at her face.
To have a face you can really trust.
To have the face of a pretty American,
who makes you smile back when she says,
Right this way, sir. Or who makes you drool
when she says, yes sir
I like it sir.
What a cyborg wants is to be clean.
Reasonable. To wash her hair a few times a week.
To not kill the plants. To stop trying to leave her friends
before they can leave her. To smile and mean it.
To believe in heaven. To believe the humans
when they say they love her. To not want sometimes
to watch them cry. To not want so badly
to be touched, badly enough to slice herself open,
to trap a man in a corner,
to peel the skin from her face
and not let him go until he looks.
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