The night before a thirteenth of Friday,
Three valiant players dealt the cards, the deck.
No other quest would intervene or wreck
Our competition, let it come what may.
No deathbed page tonight; Spike turns it off.
No pollen allergies make JD sneeze.
Not even blink, nor will PG plead please.
The game goes on, men's brows furrowed, caps doffed.
Time and again, the aces and the eight
Fall favor for PG, he cannot lose.
(Some harvest demon must pitch him the clues.)
Balls high, five kings criss cross, straight flush, checkmate.
Green chips in stacks, PG prevails in spades.
Return soon, missing kings! The balance fades.
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