Sex of One

Sex of one

Dave Cork and me behind the chicken shed.
‘You show me yours, I’ll show you mine’ he said.
Some of his Wrigleys for a flash,
that was the deal. (I wanted cash)!
Dave was an ‘only’ and lived opposite
I had a brother, seen his stupid snail bit
in the bath. I knew a thing or two!

Dave Cork’s was not much cop.
A bit more walnutty and sticking up,
a tinys dribbling eye on top and thinly thatched.
He had it in his hand, said I could feel.
I didn’t fancy it. ‘Now show me yours’ he said.
I stared him out, all snooty and detached,
pulled down my navy knickers.
lifted up my skirt.
He peered, his snotty nose up close.
looked hurt. I wouldn’t let him touch.
He shrugged and said ‘You ain’t got much,
did someone cut it off?’
Then poking behind his molars
hooked the promised gum and offered it
half chewed with no mint left
and full of Dave Cork’s spit.

A sticky metaphor perhaps
of Things To Come…?