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The Daily Game Show

Charlotte LeBlanc

 

I sit here in the hot seat,
nervous sweat pouring
down the small of my back.
International Politics for $1000, Alex.
I cannot call a friend or poll the audience,
I cannot ask a celebrity in a square,
buy a vowel or double cross my opponents.
They are as clueless as I am
with their stricken faces evident.
In front I see the disapproving glare
as I stutter out an answer.
A moment of silence . . .
and then my Regis, my Trebeck nods.
The breath held in expels,
But only for a day does calmness reign . . .
The professor asks me a question
during every class