For Mr H. Belloc.
P. E. in the 21st Century.
Oh, to be a handsome boy,
then I could be the teacher’s toy.
She could sit upon the floor
And tell me things
That bore, that bore.
In half price seats they’re lolling proud
Penned off from the common crowd
Sticky with a rictus grin;
a sniff of sex, team jackets, glory!
the toffee centre of these stories.
The ugly guys just sit and wait
For her epic to abate;
wedged between the prey & us,
teenage failures omnibus.
Without a dick, I get to sleep
As long as she don’t hear a peep
Out of female little me,
Safe in dreams of what might be
If I didn’t sit to pee.
Thin white scar upon her wrist
Gives away the story’s twist.
Tiny flags have taught me this:
If the owner doesn’t want it
Love ain’t worth a cup of piss.