dear matt

I.

i dated your little brother once,

if you could even call it dating--

we hugged with stiff arms and whispered

"hi" in the hall and that was the extent

of our courtship.

II.

i spoke to you every so often

at school plays and fundraisers and when

you and your friends followed me and my friends

on the walk home from school, shouting after us,

a cackle bubbling in your throat.

III.

i remember when you ditched me at Arby's

at my going-away party,

but came back because you felt bad

(though you swore it was

the curly fries)

IV.

you died today.

electrocuted. they told me you had to be

"put out" because i guess you decided to light on fire, too

the streetlights and houses closed their eyes and

turned their heads. you always turned heads.

i haven't seen you in four years, and i'll never see you again,

yet here i am, thinking of ways to please an audience that's still alive.

i use personification and parallelism to keep them awake

but the fact is you're dead now and this poem doesn't matter and

there's nothing more to say.

for Matthew Nunn