Poetry by Ramon Jimenez
When I was a freshman in high school,
I secretly played Pokémon on Gameboy
while collecting a card collection so thick,
that it resembled a stack of bricks.
All was going well,
until Univision ran a story about a kid
getting jumped over a stash of cards.
“Eso es de Satanás?”
Mom asked me the next day, after hearing rumors about the
cards being used in satanic rituals at work.
She demanded to see my cards.
As she looked at Pikachu,
I could see her searching for Satan
in each piece of cardboard.
I too was worried,
doubting my hobby.
Wondering if she knew that in the video game
we captured these different creatures.
Forcing them to fight to the near death
in the violent combat.
Each one made to endure burns,
electro shocks
and beatings.
Mom decided that my uncle,
who is a priest
would have the final say
On that day,
he was given my entire deck of cards.
Meticulously,
he scanned each one.
Perhaps he had seen many things of Satan before
Up and down, he looked
Trying to find the Beelzebub
in Charizard or Bulbasaur
“I don’t see anything devilish here”
He told my mom as he handed me back my cards.
