God, Ronald Reagan, and the Cosmic Pinball Machine

52 the minnesota review Ann Struthers God, Ronald Reagan, and the Cosmic Pinball Machine I see a gang of boys at Maybee's Drug Store surround the pinball machine, watch one boy play, intense, as if he believes in its painted green surface; he pats its rainbow-colored sides, one of his knees braced against its long, straight leg. Releases the plunger that beats the colored marble, sends it careening around the knobs and breakers. He knows how much he can lean on it before TILT flashes, oh, he and their masculine power have leaned on me while my lights flashed on and off, green and amber, ten thousand, twenty, a million. Win enough points and get a free ticket to heaven and a personal welcome from God himself who likes a good game of pinball when he's bored with watching sparrows. The girls observe, giggle. They don't waste their money on pinball. They buy cherry cokes, lipstick, mascara, movie magazines bulging with romance. His generals wear medals on their fat chests shit in my lake, piss in my river. Oh generals who dreamed up the invisible umbrella, cousins of the weavers who wove the emperor invisible clothes, a penny for the river, a penny for the lake. Save the moon from the garbage scow; save the river for the fish; save a little bit of white beach for the children. And Ronald Reagan won more free pinball games than anybody else in Dixon, Illinois. And God said, "That's power! That's glory! That's a cosmic pinball champion!" ...