“The tickets go to caller nine,”
The radio announcer chirps;
I pause — I don’t yet call the line
’Cause early callers fail (twerps!).
Each anxious minute irritates,
But poised to call, I stop anew
For what ifeveryone
Which means I’m caller one or two?
And thus for caller nine to be,
I’ll just outfox these feeble minds —
be seven, five or three;
Too quick they call, these lesser kinds.
I’ll win this game of wits — be bold!
But finally, I call and prate:
“So did I win?” Alas, I’m told:
“You’re calling twenty minutes late!”