I become sentimental at just the wrong time.

As a kid, I'd get swept up in game shows, Jeopardy or the $10,000 Pyramid.

My throat would close for the winner. Then I'd get embarrassed
as if someone could see that I was about to cry.
But I'd be alone in the family room, cutting school, watching daytime TV.

I never cried for the loser, who'd walk out of some North Hollywood studio
with a year's supply of Rice-a-Roni, "The San Francisco Treat."
But I'd always get all choked up for the winner.

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