Life is a game, and it seems more and more game pieces have been popping up. There are the painted buntings. A shattered framed Van Gogh poster in the trunk of my car--with 4 others left propped against a building near the river.

Then there are the old papers I’ve perused this morning: Decomposing bones in a car trunk, buzzing with flies. The picture of the oldest snake fossil, found in Argentina. That snake had a pelvis and tiny legs--a land creature. The UC-Irvine course on the science of Superheroes’ super powers. Kyle MacDonald who has gradually swapped a tiny red paper clip up to a year’s free rent in a duplex in Arizona. He is aiming to own a house.

There was the duffle bag soaked with pet urine. The sports section from a Korean newspaper. (Though perhaps that is a piece in someone else’s game.) The boss’s noseprint high on a glass panel. The friend’s search for The Saddest Song.

I don’t know if the game pieces energize me, or I am just in a better space to appreciate their knocking on the door. I don’t even know what the game IS, but I’m ready to play.