In an empty arcade there is still activity

But none arising from life

Sounds of machines humming and beeping

Their existences clear and free of strife

Bells ring to alert no one of nothing

Digital voices entice the absent to play

They can’t distract their intended targets

To take time to chase their worries away

Oh the pop-a-shot lights

Are ever oh so bright

Offering buttons to press

Promising prizes and tickets to win

As the cabinets all bathe in fluoresce

Waiting for the day’s simulations to begin

Gene G. McLaughlin 2021