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NO PLACE TO GO SHE SAID
There was no place to go,
she knew that, the school
was a complete wash out,
no place at all there, except
the gym, and that was almost
always occupied. She couldn't
take him home in their lunch
hour because her sour mother
was there, mooching around
like some miserable sick cow.
The sports field was too visible,
the small area of wood was no
good, too many prefects, spying
the grounds, doing their rounds.
She could have the occasional
grab with him for a quick peck,
in some dark nook in the corridor,
but it was all too much of a smash
and grab affair, not the kind of
kiss to make a tremor through
her hair, or stiffen her small tits
with excitement kind of kiss, she
thought sitting in the class room,
as the teacher rabbited on about
some king who'd lost his head
or something. She scribbled down
the name and date and what had
happened and why and where,
giving the male teacher the, I
couldn't care less stare. If only
Benedict was there, standing
where the teacher stood, his
hazel eyes, his quiff of hair,
ready for a kiss, and embrace,
lips to lips, face to face, hot kiss.
Benedict lived too far away;
a school bus trip, an hour or so
away from where she lived and
the school. She'd seen him briefly,
in the passageway, on her way
to biology; he smiled, waved,
then was gone, off with another
boy, towards the science labs,
his quiff dancing as he walked.
She'd not kissed him all day,
no chance had permitted, the
wet grounds had ruled out going
on the sports field to wander
and smooch, the recreation
grounds were out of bounds,
the gym too busy, too crowded
with sports loving girls, doing
their indoor netball or what
have you, and all she wanted,
needed, sitting there giving
the teacher I’m bored stare,
was a gentle kiss and cuddle ,
not this regurgitated history
and brain soaked boring muddle.
