Sonnet 9

For Matt

If there were a land where everybody’s
personality was just like yours,
fervently engaging in deep studies
of Ticket to Ride and Risk, ignoring chores;

and in this made up country made of Matts,
where mathematics is deep mystery,
the citizens (who love their dogs and cats)
would know their nation’s noble history.

Well, no man is an island thankfully,
so those of us who were not born performers
fill up arenas so that we can see
the onstage histrionics of you stormers,

who with your amplifiers on eleven
go wailing, wailing in electric heaven.