Bowling Alley

Cradle the smell
Of french fries and quarters
Clinking their way
To the belly of Donkey Kong

The bowling ball
Slides and pins they hit
Coughing as they
Fall in the smoke-filled room

​Dipping in ketchup
We salute the fallen red-ringed pins
As high scores fall and initials go up
Below the row of quarters for those to go next.