You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2014.



When we were kids

We played with plastic pieces


Airplanes, ships

And men


We moved them with such great purpose

Conquering and re-conquering the world

Plucking the casualties from the board carefully

So as not to disturb the pieces that remained


Adults now

Plastic gave way to pixels years ago

Dice to random number generators

But the games are much the same


There is a volcanic crater

Overlooking a city of pearls

Where grass grows over lava

And the men that died are lined up in rows





You can search them with an aging computer

Touch screen kiosk that still barely registers the human hand


There is a man there

With the same last name as me

Though he died at less than half my age


All those little plastic pieces lie unmoving in boxes now

Unopened for years

Resting in my upstairs closet


While the great uncle I never met

Lies just as still

Under the banyan trees