The Alchemy of Arcades
Brandon Cook
I need to run my life through the alchemy of the arcade—
That reverse chemistry by which tokens become tickets become prizes at glass counters
After which the stuffed dog driving a Winnegabo—which we spent $100 on (and could have bought for 5)—has become a prize worth far, far more than money
We will place it on a shelf in your room for a few years—next to the neon monkey with the big ears—and it will remind us of something which we will never fully name:
The thrill of so many possibilities
Of creating something out of mere chance, and,
Perhaps, the miracle that all these atoms have been made to spin wheels and throw balls at milk jugs and stand before a tide of neon, escaping into any sort of light at hand
And any lamp for the darkened path