A Living Pokedex
It's just a phase he's going through. The Pokemon go to their graves In some dark copse where Misty waves Goodbye to Ash and Pikachu. I know that place. It is the far Back of the brain where heroes fall: Steve Zodiac and Fireball, Mike Mercury and Supercar, Toys of my time, abandoned wrecks Buried in years of unbelief, My archaeology of grief. Now I'm a living Pokedex, Hitch-hiking on my son's delight And finding meaning in a craze That pumps some iron in the day's Anaemic veins until it's night. My child is playing in his den With Bulbasaur and Gloom as friends. Will he come through when childhood ends? My case is something else again.
K.M.Payne
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