Common Core
Walking past a playground, I see three girls arm in arm
promenade, with noses raised, in the cage where football's played,
amidst a horoscope of boys, pulling shapes of their stars they seek to ape
without technique nor style, around the pinging ball they pile.
And seeing this, as I pass, provokes a spiteful thought. Alas
how sad would it be for fickle fate to intervene
to put these girls in their place, back in the grounds beyond that space.
My fag ignites, and I delight, gleeful at the ball in flight
scooting, mis-kicked far from goal, and up the arse of the left hand girl.
A schoolyard ma'am, in alarm, calls for calm, knowing well which boy did harm.
He might protest, in tongue bitten rage, but that does not keep him in the game.
To prove the gynocentric point, and push further noses out of joint
she orders that the game must end, and send the boys to join their friend.
Where they all kick their heels against the wall
learning men have dogs lives after all.
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