Life A pink, faceless torso drives my car around the board between Paydays and mandatory stop signs it skates with and around other cars filled with more faceless torso’s, casually plunked like pegs into tiny holes filling game pieces and we use them to count our pace with the click click click of soft plastic against cardboard, we slap wax-papered cards down with each “achievement” knowing it’s not real, none of it is, not even a little bit, but here comes another draw of the deck and here we are, owning homes, adding more blue and pink pegs we muster our luck, we push through the hardships, we get to the eventual end having said “I suppose it was what it was” and surrender it all back to the board, again