It's no male winner since Fred Perry, 1936,
No league championship
at Anfield, two decades hardship;
It's comic book heroes without their sidekicks.
It's Achilles not getting dunked in the River Styx.
At school they were like leaves,
when autumn came they fell from the trees.
Long legs, new breasts,
in class you theorised their nakedness.
Even nerds
got some downwards
eventually. Cold turkey
without enough time to be addicted,
one wrong turn and you're afflicted.
(It always ends badly.)
At least you can buy a pack of cigs
when you want them. The shindigs
begin to stop. The parties
begin to rot. You meet your twin
at uni, kids in your thirties,
office job, get a decent wage in.
Spare a poor thought for the wifeless:
all alone with nothing to undress.
