Two Poems

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TOYS R US
airsoft / bang bang / black ops / blowback / buy it bro / chamber a bb / cops will definitely not know the difference / fires fast / fun to shoot / holds up / just like the one we had on active duty / more reliable / much safer / not for kids / orange tip / packs a punch / real steel / rear serrated / screw off / shattered glass / shoot around / shoot a round / single shot / slide lock / spring pistol / spring power / the bbs rip right through / the bbs tend to stick / this is dead-on / worth every dollar

WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS

A low humming engine shuts off at a red light—
It’s the homie Des. Two midwest kids in a golden state

Candy paint glistening brighter than both
our foreheads. Who knew it would take two hours

for her to swoop. It took two years for us to synchronize
a break between our six jobs. The sound of a car door

opening is top five. I turn to her and smile, aye
we made it. Look at us, killing it. Look at you,

killing em. Meanwhile the sun squirts across the horizon.
We stick out our tongues, tasting tangerine smog,

tires peeling off two feet into traffic. In GTA
it was always faster than this—jack a car,

hitch a ride, get in, go wherever. We roll
the windows down and ride through West

Hollywood. Waist trainers everywhere, suck,
pin, tuck, plump, tint, buss. Seen a girl burst

into tears outside the club. Her guy
was gripping her arm, twisting her up

against the car. On foot, I said: Hey—

Are you good? Just come with us
or I’ll call a ride for you. It can take you

wherever you want to go. An hour
later, in that same spot, it was the same

situation, with the same people. Des said
look—they’re stuck in story mode. Mission

failed. My brother used to say, yeah, all guys
are pigs. Then pass me the controller.

This was back in 2002 when I was ten & we
used to stay up in our suburban den, playing

vice city, nostalgic for a time when we weren’t
even born. Driving around to Hall and Oates,

running over pedestrians. I used to spend my turn
cruising, changing the station, listening to commercials.

I used to drive Tommy out to the ocean & throw him in
the water. Watch him drown. Marvel at the recklessness

of the game design, which was built on the premise
of no limits, but failed to program Tommy to know

how to swim. Glitches in the game. There are cockroaches
all over & they are the only thing you can’t kill.

In real life, I used to spray death chemicals on roaches
all around my house, only to watch them grow wings

& fly across the room or disappear into crevices.
Paranoia is imagining roaches seeing you for what

you really are. A killer they will come for in the night.
I always thought the pedestrians might notice a pattern

& start hiding, or teaming up, but they always just stood
there, looking stupid. People love Grand Theft Auto.

Did you know though, that the game was founded
on a glitch? Before it was GTA it was Race ’n’ Chase.

Hit and run, high speed situations. The error
was when the police got close to catching

the cars, their aggression would escalate. They
would ram into the vehicles, causing a crash.

In real life, this is not an error. Police chases often
end in a crash, a fatal collision or the wrath

of a mind running at that speed. Adrenaline,
at that speed. A baton, at that speed. History,

at that speed. Lethal. A death that way is
a grand theft. Auto. An error in the game

was the realest feature. It formed a foundation.
The developers thought how American. How

reckless. Naturally, they built an empire out of it.
& here I am, with Destanie, in the city of saints

where we cruise until we hit a dead end. The edge
of a map. The landscape dried out and picturesque,

we wonder where to go next, pressing down
on the pedal, only to rev up against a limitless wall.