VHS

hopscotch at the tabletop tribunal

slap the stopwatch

set off the seismometer

shockwaves sweep squares like a São Paulo death squad

rubbing rookies off the road

behold

a birds-eye view of bereavement on a board

unwelcome lines flicker in paused time

like a gobbled VHS

the stage is set

plucking pages of this murder magazine with each sideways step

irate pawns at the gate

revved up on revenge

for their tapped out, toppled teammates

cubes shift & crack

damn

will anyone escape like Kazan?

the lives of many directed by a couple of hands

castles creep like crabs

it’s all in the game

you are not what you say you are

you are not

you

giddy up, take an L

friction in a fortress

a mass grave of fallen soldiers

exposed

slapped in the face by the smell of eliminated stones

dawn rises

down to the last few pieces

plugged in

making Matrix moves

petrified

pole vaulting on this zebra crossing

on the route to ...

“what the hell

might as well

where is my mind

when is my time?”