Ms. Pacman

You were the queen of the arcade, fast talk,

quick temper, darling of my college days –

When your entanglements betrayed a maze

of dead-end arguments, you'd take a walk

(a-wawk-a-wawk-a-wawk-a-wawk-a-wawk...)

Then double-back with a voracious phrase

to turn the tables on that hungry gaze,

an adolescent male's unpleasant sulk.

You were the campus deity of choice,

an Aphrodite to the lucky few,

A Circe, a Diana, to rejoice

in the luckless pining of your retinue.

What appetite, what love allowed your voice

the art to turn the men around you blue?