The Dancing Screen

The good town sleeps 
while nighthawks fly and addicts fiend
the wind might blow, maybe there’s snow
I don’t know
but secure from this
a child sits
alone

Doritos, and Cheetos
and Ecto Cooler 
Nintendo, the soft glow,
the cartridge blow 
he’s ten years old
the volume’s low
and he sits
alone

Now his eyes are glue and fastened to
that dancing screen that swirls in his brain
his fingers pound, his palms are wet
A, B, Start, Select
the buzzing moon 
peers into the room as the music 
sweetly drones…

Oh the hours fold as hours do
when it’s just the TV and you
the daylight breaks, the moon’s erased
he’s wide awake
the strung-out child
no longer feels
alone