River Raid
it was on the Atari 2600
blue and green and red
block colors across the round
screen of a 13 inch Zenith
jammed into the corner
of your room
this was the only game
we ever sat down
played together
taking turns
handing the black joystick
with the bright single red button
back and forth
when it was your turn
you would sit
cross legged
with your Joe Camel leather jacket
his cigarettes that killed you
in the side pocket
during the week
the sun would get that
sting the back of your eyes
teeth grinding no cloud
weighted presence
the day would go raw
in the gums
where you wanted to chew
your own fingers
I’d play the game
without you
but a ghost
couldn’t and still can’t
fix what’s been taken
by whatever hold
Ohio and
a set
of
painted nails
had on you
4 thoughts on "River Raid"
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I like the play
of point of view
& the enjambment
of structure and
meaning.
But forget all that bs,
this is just a damn
good poem.
I agree with Jim. This poem rocks.
the hint of future to come:
“his cigarettes that killed you
in the side pocket”
love:
a ghost
couldn’t and still can’t
fix what’s been taken
by whatever hold
Ohio and
a set
of
painted nails
had on you
I agree with everyone else: such strong description. Love
“…taken
by whatever hold
Ohio and
a set
of
painted nails
had on you”