The old boxed Sega Genesis,
Sitting in the cabinet, saving dust.
Once found, plugged in,
Off like a Lambo in Gran Turismo,
Speeding off while slurring witty lines
To mock the other drivers.
Cartridge switch, off to Brawl.
Fighting tooth and nail, fierce and fast.
Victory as the sparks race across the screen.
Final punch. Opponent gone.
But there sits Echo in the corner,
Watching over the ocean, signaling for the safety of others.
Laying silent, observing, until the shark comes.
Unplugged. No sound until next time someone stumbles
On the cord.
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