Our class

Our class

Lemming would gladly rise his hand
To whatever idea saved him
The pains of making up his mind.
Big on Channel 4 now, a machine gun for jokes;
Every Friday night fifteen million people
Die of unstoppable laughter.

Legs preened herself for the boys in the toilet.
Geography of her hips, English of her bosom,
Chemistry of her lips – she observed her own timetable.
A picture on the front page of the evening paper
Shows a familiar face check an accident-boy
With concerned ER eyes.

Fat bottom was the easy-one. No wasting time
On holding hands or tickets to the cinema.
Every time, every place, with anybody.
Head of support group for young lost causes,
Received at No 10, signs her new book
A week from now at Foyles.

One morning before the school, we finally
Pushed Drag to sleep. His mother called the head
But could not breathe a word. I am about to say The last time
We saw him in a handsome box, face hidden under a white silk,
The whole school gathered and some teachers cried,
But at last I am ready to own up we were not able to see him at all.

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