Thursday, October 03, 2013

POEM - Coin-fed

We are the coin-fed generation
Classically trained
In the Pavlovian style
To desire discs of metal
Weighty little coins
Keys to worlds of wonder
A few for the vending machine
A line of them for the games
Candy bars and Coke
And hours of time disappeared

The funny irony of it
That is repeated still today
Is the parents were worried
They thought out minds would melt
That we’d forget how to interact with people
Zoning out on video games
Dropping our quarters in slots
One after another after another
Funny how it didn't happen
Funny how pedestrian that era seems
Looking back through internet colored eyes

Because it was better
Back there playing Galaga
Than it is with their decedents of now
Because you had to get up
Leave the house
Bike down to the strip mall
Talk to the guy making change
Wait in line for your favorite game
And then leave at some point
Because you ran out of quarters
Or it was closing time

And then you got home just in time
To read a few pages in your favorite book
Maybe call your girlfriend
Or shoot hoops in the park
Watch a little David Letterman
And then actually sleep at night

No arguments over saved games
Never a cheat to spoil the fun
Everyone starts from the beginning
Even ground
Level playing field

Gentlemen, present your quarters!



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