Wednesday, 4 January 2017

Poetry 2017 02


“I've been to the gym,” he says,
gets props and kudos from his mates,
his mum, the girl he fancies
(the sister of his best mate
but he's never said nothing)
but I was there as well.
I saw him sat (forever)
on the assisted pull-up
listening to music on his iPhone
followed by a couple of half-hearted exercises
and a selfie of his bicep.

Angie feigns admiration;
doesn't know he fancies her.
He's the dorky friend of her brother
who smells of curry and desperation
and besides,
she prefers older men.

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