The moment that I signed the dotted line,
I felt a love so unconventional.
Her love for me could not be by design,
According to her software manual.

I barely needed her instruction book.
Assembling her came naturally, indeed.
She was supposed to only clean and cook.
For me she fulfilled a much deeper need.

No one can ever know about this joy.
We’ll run away and marry somewhere else,
And when I tire of my electric toy,
I’ll put her and my love upon a shelf.

There are no drawbacks yet that I can see,
If I don’t void her lifetime warranty.

Originally published at

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I can’t resist a good garage sale.
Or a bad one.

Garage sales,
estate sales,
open houses.

When I see one, I have to stop and look around,
glimpse into the lives of others,
sift through the cast-off skins and empty nests.

I rarely buy anything.

Mostly, I gather memories of the things being sold,
and of the people browsing and selling.

Occasionally, I’ll bring something home:
an old record too scratched to work,
a broken-spined novel I’ve never heard of,
an untitled amateur painting. …


Matthew Plummer Cobb

I write stuff. Some of it can be found in Throughput, my Medium publication.

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