1491 – Bingo!

Every. Single. Time.


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.