“THE TORRID TALE OF MATTIE T-REX”
Mattie T-Rex is a party animal.
He isn’t particularly short,
Nor, excessively tall.
He stands guard at the top of a North Shore hill,
And watches people come and go.
he’s witnessed, plenty of awkward first dates,
with tennis shorts full of trouser wood,
and cuffed jorts containing moist laps,
And sweaty petite feet, sock-less and shod in white canvassed sneakers.
Left on during the thrill,
For fear that the biology of stinky feet would derail the biology of smearing groins.
At that age, urgency supersedes a lot of details.
Ahhhhhh, summer!
Ice cream cones and cotton candy.
Holes in one.
Mattie T-Rex’s fatal flaw:
He couldn’t reach the clubs,
As his arms were too short.
He never played a game of golf,
Or swung a bat in the batting cages.
He just stood watch.
The Guardian of Saugus.
One time we saw a pink hat on his orange crown.
It was slightly askew.
It’s good to know that Mattie T-Rex still stands for freedom.
And he still parties like it’s 1999.
Weylu’s gone.
Hilltop gone.
Mattie T-Rex,
Still dreaming of a birdie on the ninth hole.
