Micro-chip

8th January 2012

Little chips, little dips and
The sound of crunching guitars
Ease my mind from the
          constant whirring,
          constant twirling,
          breaking thunder
          breaking my concentration.
Back to days of cheering,
A time long gone when maps guided the way –
          Or rather, did not whenever I cared to look at a screen.
Those days, when time changed,
Those days, when gameplay
Was simpler than assassinating your dad with deadly nightshade.
I refuse to let go of the little purple guy that engulfed my childhood but
          O, he was Keener than me.
When Duke swore,
didn’t seriously know;
          When death was avenged I thought surely I must die,
          but I couldn’t talk to this man any longer.
Oh I clicked with regret,
But I remember Murphy,
          On rainy days I watched my father play and move a red ball,
          Mind’s Mirage was forgotten,
          The Vertigo of shakes too,
          Back to a puzzle that existed beyond ’92.
Now 10 years on I follow in his footsteps.

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