Poem: Can’t believe I wrote this.

I bowled alone today,

At the alley with the soundtrack of 80s power ballads and year old pop songs

And the three pool tables, though never more than one is being used.

There was a moment when the ball was an extension of my arm, It struck a single pin which tumbled, scattering its nine companions.

The screen congratulated me and I wondered whether this game could be a metaphor.

There was nobody to see my victory, because the only other man was far away across the other side of the room.

Bowling alone.