My mother told me I never should

let a boy know I think he looks good.

So now when I go to some boyband's gig,

dressed up all sexy and fired by a swig

of vodka, I really grab at the chance

to shout that I love them and hope they glance

my way in the crowd and see that I'm there,

jump down to get me and answer my prayer.

But after it's over, on the way home,

I know it's just pipe dreams and all alone

in my bedroom I realise how I'll be glad

to meet in my town some presentable lad

who'll love me and help me to bring up our kids,

be faithful and work hard to bring in the quids.

I still go to gigs 'cos it's something to do

but look for the boys in the crowd for the few

possible partners till I find the one

I can tell to his face that he's more than just fun.

From a newspaper report

Poor kid ! He didn't deserve to die.
That was too much. Just unlucky to crack
his head on the ground when he was hit.
Punched. Could have happened to anyone.
But he certainly wasn't poor, or rather,
his family wasn't, what with him going
to a top public school. What a waste.
But what an attitude. Trying to put
his attacker down, metaphorically, verbally.
Seeing the other guy as an ignorant pleb.
Knowing his own superiority, bred into him
all through his childhood - family, school,
sports, clubs, societies, all his friends.
But what a stupid thing to say. Hadn't yet
learned properly to keep such things unsaid.
Known but unsaid among people like himself.
"One day you'll work for me."

The journey

Just focus on the road ahead
and glance the views on either side;
no need to hurry but instead
enjoy the experience of the ride.
Respect the other vehicles' rights
to use the carriageway as well
and, when it's dark, switch on your lights.
Restrain the horn and try to quell
impatience when the traffic's stuck.
When breakdowns happen, then you need
to ask for help; don't count on luck.
Go forward, not where others lead.
The rearview mirror is very small;
it hardly needs any use at all.