1491 – Bingo!

Bingo!
Every. Single. Time.

O-Sixty-Eight

B-seven, that was breezy.
I-twenty-five: too easy!
And on the way to winning,
FREE SPACE completes my N-ing.
G-fifty-five, I sing-o,
“One number left to BINGO!”
and hope I’m not defeated
before my row’s completed.

Now every number spoken,
my hopes become more broken.
I’m waiting, waiting, waiting
for one O-sixty-eighting.
But it’s becoming clearer,
with others drawing nearer:
This caller keeps on squawking,
O-sixty-eight keeps mocking.

I’m panicking. I’m sweating.
Don’t NEED the ones I’m getting.
I listen, look, and labor,
but “BINGO!” shouts my neighbor.
The victory denied me,
my heart deflates inside me.
It aggravates and thrills me:
O-sixty eight, it kills me.

Author: Samuel Kent

I'm a dad who wants to share his labor of love with the world. I also happen to be an award-winning artist and poet. Follow the lunchbox doodles and poems on twitter: @LunchboxDoodler!

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