Song of the Suburbs
(A Not Particularly Epic Poem)
By Katy Spindler

Oh Ye Who Are Thirsty, come heed my tale.
O Ye Who Have Quarters Jingling in Jeans,
O Ye Who Will Eat “Combos” Fresh or Stale,
Come listen now to a tale of courage.

O Ms. Pac-Man, muse of the arcade game
Like the golden apple of yore, you shine
No Space Invader can extinguish fame
That you can grant me to tell my tale.

O bravest, eldest Tom, cowers before it
With skinned shins he kneels before the creature
Coal black, umber brown, with fangs drooling spit.
Young James, Younger Kate prepare for Tom’s doom.

Ah Fates, what brought us forth on this journey
Was an innocent cause: hot summer days
Long for Slurpees and a Rampage tourney.
We collected our quarters and embarked.

Alas! For the suburbs are fraught with peril!
We innocents set off unaware of
Lawn mowers, lost balls, dogs gone feral,
But 7-11 glowed in our eyes,

Brave Thomas, the eldest, son of Daniel,
Son of the north lands, son of Sheboygan.
And James, tall, proud, fearsome as his spaniel,
Young Kate rounds off the trio on this trek.

O Lizzie, goddess of the Rampage game,
Grant us safe passage! We will honor you
Devoting many quarters to your name
And drink the cooling nectar of Slurpees.

Our sneakered feet strode down the cement squares
The convenience store a mere six blocks off.
A neighbor’s house or demons’ lairs
Lurked unassuming halfway down our path.

Laughing and chatting in the summer sun,
We walked in line, Tom farthest from the road,
James, nearest the street, I, the middle one.
The foul beast laid in wait, watching.

We came upon the yet undreaded house,
Eldest Tom passing closest to its walls,
Gentle presence causing the beast to rouse
Snapping, launching itself towards hapless Tom.

Drool sprayed the children amid frenzied barks.
Tom hit the ground, the animal revealed
As a Doberman, terror of the parks.
Black, brown, evil. A suburban fury.

Screaming, into traffic we nearly rolled.
Shaking, pale, Praise Lizzie! We watched amazed.
The demon hit the fence. The pickets would hold.
Suburban Styx keeping Cerberus in

Frustrated and snarling, kept from our necks
The beast sunk out of sight, awake, waiting
For other unlucky travelers’ treks.
We were safe for now, to continue on.

At 7-11, Heaven awaits!
And cherry Slurpees were never sweeter
Rampage’s pixels never brighter. Fates!
We dedicate this top High Score to Thee!

As the gods, we with this nectar toasted
Our avatars in Rampage ate men and
Pixeled city buildings were roasted.
Truly a golden afternoon was spent.

We drank and played until all quarters spent.
The rosy fingered dawn was hours away.
A thought and our sweet joyous mood was rent:
Like Odysseus, how do we get home?!

——

Katy Spindler was forced to read Homer too many times. Mmm... Homer... Visit her blog at http://thoughtfulrabbit.blogspot.com/.

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