For Agro and Luna
I know you do this for the drama: the penultimate heart-jerker of my journey,
the death of my steed–no, my companion for this hero’s journey you’ve designed
for strangers–forces me to meet the final moments of this story
alone. You’re manipulative: tears fall on joysticks from
this predetermined force majeure death sequence. I quit
the game, I reload the save, (you must know this),
I watch the horse fall off the collapsing bridge again,
again, I reexamine my choices, I quit, I reload, I say goodbye
like the conversations I repeat in my mind: I remember my imprecise
words, the silent seconds, my face’s wrinkles. I wonder if I can rehearse
every conversation before it happens as you do, Master Designer.
Maybe I wouldn’t consume myself if I were you. Still, I think
about fake horses and their fake deaths. Still, release seems unlikely.