Ryan Villena Poet I do not know?

Windows and Boxes

Then and now,
my favorite thing to do
has always been
looking through windows,
looking in boxes.

I can still recall
that day.
Ten years old,
my first Pokémon.

My friends were my Pokémon,
my emotions were calculated through damage multipliers.
It was the life.

Now, my old friends gather
dust
under my bed,
yet do not age.
But I have aged so much.

Stuck with humans present, I cry for those digital friends,
whom I could love without judgment,
whose overall reliability was a tangible number
in that Game Boy window,
where the only drama I felt
came in pixilated, perfectly perpendicular text boxes.

Humans are so flawed,
but not those Pocket Monsters,
whose margins of error were always measured
in a perfectly percentaged probability.


I know amazing people
who volunteer, serve, love.
they are deluded, imperfect.

I had a creature with low power, basic moves, and that always lost.
but It
was
perfection.

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