A Logical Fascination with Pinball Machines.

I wrote this over a year ago but this week, as I was roadtripping all over, I found this quiet oldschool diner where I could just sit and write and relax. There was a pinball machine in that old diner and it brought me back to this poem. I feel like the pinball in the machine.  

ping ping ping FLASHHH ping…..

there is a constant state of motion

a neverending jostle

a repetitive circular force

a beautiful smiling facade facing onlookers

but beneath the glass

a delicate balance is maintained

you have to give just enough

you have to have just enough push to keep from losing this game

afterwards, or until then

it becomes a silent almost depressing sight

an empty shell void of everything

except all its working parts that have yet to work together

pull the lever, take a shot, and rile me up

you’re nothing but shimmer baby, and under the glass your missing parts.