Freecell Crisis

the aces are all buried I don’t even see the red
sixes or black sevens, I see the one red eight
that red jack but no black queen oh crap
the tableau is a strangled cacophony
of devious mismatch and treachery
foundation a parched landscape
a no-man’s land where aces
hath n’er dwelt in eons
of solitary evenings
spent here alone
without you
my dear
you

hello, freecell hotline?
yes, I’ll hold