Olympia, WA
We wore the clothes. We stretched to places we'd never before seen or known. Polyester. Damn. I want that sweater.
We played the game. We hoped to win. We watched
the steel ball bounce, and dance and ping and sway.
The Greyhound bus depot had a cafe and one pinball machine. We learned how to tilt, to cheat, and to love the game. Sorry for the cheating. Thank you for the winning.
We ate. Sometimes it was food, and other times it was sustenance. Mostly it was survival. Pinball gave us hope.
Corn dogs.
The Future was ours, until it wasn't.
Amen. God. Whatever. Pinball is alive and it lives within all of us. If you have a machine to sell, we'll buy it. May
Be.
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