Atomic Arcade
Louis Efron

in our borrowed lives
winning and losing
only briefly matter
 
lured to a divine playing field 
            alluding control
            we never have
we are captivated
by flashing ripe strawberry
and blinding lemon hues
 
wide-eyed
we aim to ignite
magnificent billowing
haloed mushrooms
            to ruin others
            so they know we are here
 
pixelated faces 
melt like candles
on back box screens
above reflections
of our children
            who will not be okay
 
points earned in body counts     
            at dings and clanks
on forgetful (((pulsating))) scoreboards
            awaiting the next player
 
between our insufficient hands
            like chattering pinball flippers
            too short to fill our gaps
we fall into digital drains
grasping what could have been
for those we press closest to our hearts