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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 06, 2016

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Submitted: November 06, 2016



Lizbeth stopped me
by the school tuck shop
where I was waiting
for Nigel to buy something.

Other pupils stood
or walked past.

I may come out
and see you on Saturday,
she said,
will you be at home?

I don't know
what I will be doing,
I replied.

Are you meeting
the Virgin Jane then?
Lizbeth asked.

I suspect so,
I said.

What do you
want to see in her?
She will offer you
nothing and talk
babble about nature
and birds and butterflies,
Lizbeth said.

I like butterflies
and birds,
I said.

I can offer you more
than she can;
I can make you a man
and feel things
you have not
felt before,
Lizbeth said
(in low voice so
that others in
the queue nearby
didn't hear her).

I don't want
what you are offering,
and have offered me
since that time
in the church
when you wanted
sex on a pew,
I said.

She smiled,
and said:
O you remember,
that is good,
how good it would
have been
had you stayed
and not run off
like boy.

Nigel came
from the tuck shop
with a few items
he had bought
and saw Lizbeth.

What's she want?
He said.

Not you
that's for sure tubby,
she said,
see you Saturday
then Benny,
and walked off
along the corridor
and out of sight.

What did she want?
He said.

Her usual nonsense,
I said.

He shrugged his shoulders
and we walked
into the playground
where he shared
his items with me.

I hoped she wouldn't
turn up on Saturday;
I wanted to see Jane alone.

Nigel talked of her
in a dismal moan.

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