The Hitting Game

The Hitting Game

 

 

On the island’s south side

a solitary town fizzes

like overloaded circuitry

on dark, motherboard hills.

 

Across a sticky, smooth-tiled walkway

an amusement arcade spills

a test of sexiness based on how clammy your palm is

and the hitting game.

 

You spin in coins so they register

on sensors worn numb. 

A padded st...

Read and leave comments (2)

arcadegameGraham Cliffordholidaypoetry

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message