A boy stands waiting on the line,
Boredom stoutly kept at bay,
Her sideways glance could speak a tome
If noticed, but he missed and has to see the play.
All he has left is the sleep of the just
And protocol is honored in the breach,
A life fully fit for drowning
In silver surf way out beyond the beach.
D’ya ever see the film called If?
Who knows what the hell it was about
But there’s a scene in it where
The lads sit around,
Turn a girlie magazine inside out;
One boy — played by Malcolm McDowell,
Licks the naked centerfold.
A perfect metaphor of schoolboy sex:
Like meat from a hook in hell he’s hung,
A glossy coat upon his tongue.
The broken mirror shard reciprocates,
Bare chiseled shoulder and hips approach, see;
I could be licking your lips for you.
Dribbling liquor down our faces,
Swapping spit in the back of the taxi,
Driving the big old family car like a grown-up,
Mouth slightly open in concentration,
Fire and brimstone —
A big hand on a shoulder…
The cynical suitor has seen the girl,
That certain someone he means to have,
All he need know is the right persona;
Speak soft, dear boy, wield not the big stick!
Soon enough you’ll discover what makes her tick,
Moving on to bigger girls and on to bigger beds,
Baby shaved himself today and cut himself to shreds,
The young romantics settle down to build their nests,
Decidedly asexual, feeling lumps for breasts.