Letter to Crash Bandicoot

As a dorky kid I danced your victory
dance down a Soul Train Line at a basement
birthday party, somehow thought dancing
with moves I learned from a video game
would make the other kids forget my mom
wasn’t black. I wished I could rotate
like you: so fast I could spin to defend myself
and deflect objects.

When I played the game
at home, I couldn’t shake the thought of your fight
with Dingodile, a dingo with a flame-thrower
and a crocodile’s tail. You, Crash, were the hero
but I saw myself in his brown fur,
hybrid body. I think of you, silent
in my command on the screen, jumping
on this boss’s head so he falls on his face,
tail up in the air.