Pinball   Keeping track of time — we can measure it even in half-centuries now, our double vision pleasantly blurred but our wits intact, more or less. Some weird kind of club, no dues, membership of two, first convened in Casper, county spelling bee — just kids and way out of our league, two little green nobodies, bounced out early — but we did do one thing right that day — and it was good. Maybe it was soul finding soul, but really it must have been the pinball — yes, you’d kept all those dimes for a reason — the steel emblem, the bumpers and bells, the fake flames. Fifty years on, and we’re still in the game.                                                                 for Kevin     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont March 2018