Run. Jump. Run. To the next screen
A sudden rolling log brings Harry to a knee
Jump down a hole below to evade
Scorpions as far as the eyes can see
Run jump run scroll repeat.
Syracuse, New York. 1983
Mom and Helen in the kitchen
Joey down the hall in borrowed space
Friday night, the Atari makes it bitchin.
Run. Jump. Swing. Over the black tar pit.
Gators defiantly snapping, a tricky play
Run. Run. Jump. Inch your way back
Success! Harry lives to fight another day
Run jump swing scroll repeat.
In the kitchen the chatter shifts
From idle talk to the upcoming move
Teenage energy enters the space
Resetting the tone to a positive groove
Run. Jump. Swing. Fall. Run. Jump. Repeat.
Left and right, in grainy two dimensions.
The tempo is hypnotic yet calming
Quieting his hyperactive attention
Run jump swing scroll-but wait.
Chris bursts in with teenage goodwill
Bottles of A&W, a new game at the ready
Breaking the spell that Harry has cast
His voice, both patient and steady
“Hey, Joey! Let’s take this game for a spin!”
He announces, handing the boy a “beer”
With a snap of static, the click of a switch
The flat world expands to a sphere
The screen comes alive in technicolor glory
Unlike anything either boy has ever seen
A bold new vision of pixels and points
At the controls of an armored machine
Two “beers” later and Chris is gone
Back to his suburban mall land
Just outside of the Atari bubble
The future is still being planned
The gameplay relentlessly rolls on
No longer limited to just east and west
A freshly commissioned tank commander
Poised for his north-south quest
Like frost on the bottle the hours melt
The boy has mastered this new game
Mom calls out as the high score is cleared
Friday night Atari would never be the same
The ride back to Homer is in silence
The boy’s head still boggling from the night
While Mom’s mind is on the upcoming week
Dreaming in pixels, Joey sleeps tight
Mannino Acid 