MX Unleashed
We used to play MX Unleashed on my PS2
sitting on the floor in my living room
on rainy days, mostly, when we couldn’t
mimic the dirt bikes in the game
with the bicycle your mom bought
and the bicycle my mom thrifted.
Money was tight so we had to
move away,
and I don’t think I’ve seen you since
that last day we played my PS2.
But I didn’t know it would be the last day
because we swore that
despite different schools and different friends,
despite different homework and different
classes,
despite a hundred miles or so between us
we would be best friends for life.
Who knew life
only had a 20-mile radius.
Who knew that
I wouldn’t play my PS2 until
years later
with my new best friend,
the one that would stick around for life,
but faded into a
fabricated 20-mile radius
through a cell phone screen,
meant to shorten the 200-mile distance
between our actual lives.
Who knew that
one day would be the last day
I ever played MX Unleashed,
and I would pack it away with my PS2
into little boxes
to store them away with old
photographs and scratched CDs,
yellowing pillows and torn blankets
with frayed edges and a million holes.
Who knew that
one day we would grow up
despite our insistence that we would
be young and stupid
forever,
despite the fact
that we never got what we wanted
and all we wanted back then
was to grow up,
despite the new video games I bought
all these years later
for the new console I watch
collect dust on a shelf,
just like the memories
it couldn’t quite recapture.
But now I look back on those old memories
preserved through the lens of an
ancient Polaroid,
and I think how desperate I am
to become a kid again
just to experience the thrill of
missing the bus and
spreading gossip at the lunch table,
just to experience life in the dark
on a humid, rainy day
sitting on the floor of my living room
in front of an enormous box TV,
controller in hand, conversing about
roller coasters and video games,
homework and the dirt bikes
we couldn’t ride—
and I wonder
when did I stop playing
MX Unleashed?