By Daniel Rigney
When Scrabble masters sleep,
do they dream high-scoring dreams?
Do they dream of zaxes, quartz, and zoos,
Of quiddiches and queens?
When Scrabble masters dream,
is xanax in their brains
or oxytoxin in their blood
to rx their lexical pains?
And in the morning, when they wake
to the yak of exotic birds,
do they start the day with saxy jazz
and a breakfast of scrambled words?
P.S.: Is there a scrabble player you know who might enjoy this?
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