Phantom Playground After Nate Marshall and Demetrius Amparan’s “Lost Count: a Love Story” Camden, NJ It seemed even the ghosts didnt want to play with me. So the rainstorm would have to do. It already soaked my Pokemon card game mat, the deck stuffed in light denim jeans growing damp and dark on my neighbor’s step. When Mom slid her car into park, she was knee-scrapes-from-the-playground pissed over me waiting to play around such danger after buying me so many plastic friends from Toys R Us and shopping malls. Also likely, she just didn’t want me befriending flu, having her focus budgeted from the office to my hospital stay. But there was the lack of vaccine for beat downs in breeding grounds of statistics; a wet dream for mathematicians to add numbers up, equal my name. Perhaps it was not even the best decision for her to let me play this game, knowing how my generation can be: my opponent, flustered from not drawing the right cards, could draw a pistol to snuff out embarrassment. And so, rainstorm wouldnt have my friendship to itself without it digging through ground and casket wood first.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Nov 2014 05:10:39 +0000
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