BY BARLOW ADAMS
Pokémon is a lie.
You cannot catch them all.
Not alone.
You need a partner,
two copies, two lives.
I bought the game
to help my son.
He knows the rap,
Lucario from Totodile,
everything an Eevee
can become.
But he doesn’t understand evolution
is another word for mutation.
Cell proliferation. Poison-Types.
We catch the ones we can.
He’s never heard of Lymphoma,
seen Nurse Joy carry a Chansey
out the back of a health center,
black tarp over her smiling face.
All those broken eggs.
Son, I’m taking the treatments,
but they aren’t super effective.
Barlow Adams is a humble poet from Pallet Town. His work has appeared on gym walls from Cinnabar Island to Vermillion City. He is a psychic/fighting type who has yet to reach his final evolution. He is fond of pecha berries and has finished 3rd in several beauty contests. Follow him @BarlowAdams.