My brother used to play all games
By consulting books of strategy —
Every game he played, he played the same,
No matter what the specifics be.
Every Pac-Man screen he knew by rote,
The programming he’d writ on his heart.
He’d already outsmarted the prowling ghosts
Before the jaunty music could start.
I ranted and raved, decried the cold calculation,
Whereas I always went in red hot!
If I lost, I lost (which was usually the situation),
But a memorizer of patterns I was not.
I craved the uncertainty, he craved the control,
Just like jazz and blues created rock and roll.