Last night, after watching Johan Santana pitch the first no hitter in Mets' history, JIm Cummins and I agreed to write impromptu sonnets provoked by the jests in our e-mails of the moment, to revise them while watching "The Haunting of Soroity Row" on LMN, and to post the results, however ill advised, and utterly without regard for the destiny of the girls at Delta Phi Beta and their earnest bfs and bffs. Jim came through with his allusive "Urban Sonnet," and here is my effort, a "Sax Solo," no sonnet, just twelve lines of puns and rhymes, but fair is fair and here tis:
I joined them on sax and bone in "The Inferno" (Dante's).
Jones, who grew up randy, slid into the home of the brave.
Bobby tried to get into Suey's panties at Mama Leone's, her auntie's.
Second baseman Steve played sax and read books by Stout, Rex.
Bobby doubled to deep left and Sue rang her bell. (Ding dong.)
and played ping pong with King Kong
and they had two flagrant delectable flings
with the faithless mistress lying on her back
and were chop suey generous with wedding rings
on the isle of Capri, the size of a sugar shack.