"K-O-N-G Generations" | A gaming memoir verse

Dear Reader, dat arcade ape is at it again.

Ornery creature, simian of some kind, swings through country vine to vine.

No care, other than a heap of 64 golden treasures stacked pyramidally high.

King of bristled tree bark carpeted fur returns from recent rain, sit as a simian to observe.

Each mosquito move in this tropical freeze, brushes fanning leaves, leaving dryness where sweat curves.

You must not miss how he flies, sheew sheew!, wind's mask stretches over his face.

Kites might flap, slapping as rippling hand-flags seam, but jungle beat aerials lag on screen.

Oh but why this racing bonanza?

Nostalgia knows no future. Only glorious past of youth and old friends.

Gained yellow banana hoard in hand, you played Donkey Kong again.

Behind-the-poem bonus

You get a banana.