Golden boy

--

He did B.Com marketing

she did B.Sc

he specialised in branding

she, in forestry

He loved her legs, at first

she loved his hair and chin

he kissed her drunk on vodka

(she was drunk on gin)

He took her back to his bedsit

(his roommate understood)

he rummaged for her private bits

she groped for his manhood

It was over very quickly

comatose, he slept

she felt she should be happy

but lay awake and wept

They radiated happiness

at parties and in malls

he wore tight pink golf shirts

and pants that showed his balls

She was neater, more discreet

yet took the utmost care

to pamper her French manicure

her dyed and straightened hair

He slept with other girls, of course

a thorough Jack-the-lad; yet

felt no more than three years old

around his girlfriend's dad

She would never, ever cheat

though loved to sit on knees

and bat her heavy eyelashes

play innocent (hint at sleaze)

Oh, what blonde magnificence!

What diesel-trousered joy!

Oh what boob-tubed brilliance!

a perfect girl and boy!

She graduated cum laude

he didn't (rugby first)

He spent a lot of time in pub

attending to his thirst

She parted ways with forestry

(finding well paid jobs was tough)

so was hired by a health shop

She said: It's close enough

She found out of his cheating

but kept him nonetheless

She chose instead to undereat

and then to overdress

Meanwhile, he'd hurt his knee

while chasing down the dream

life without an oval ball?

unthinkable it seemed!

Suddenly, she wondered why

she'd liked him all that much

Losing hair and gaining weight

and hobbling on a crutch

He dropped out of university

considered London for a time

there was always Australasia:

South Africa without the crime

Marry me , he said one night;

it sounded like an order

diamonds were this girl's best friend

(yes, in a way, he bought her)

They found a two-bed townhouse

and called each other babes

he knocked her up one time boet

they flipped through baby names

Gary, Derek, Charl and Chad

Pippa, Paris, Mary-Kate

or something spiritual, my babes,

like Anastasia or Fate!

How about we mix them up?

he said no hint of irony

So Dad and Mom combined to bring

the world their baby Briony

Things got shit, he lost his job

he blamed affirmative blacktion

they're getting their revenge my babes

they're stealing back the nation

Eventually, he had to stoop

to asking Dad-in-law

to teach him all about his world;

a world of tiles and flooring

She quit her job, though grimaced

when she heard the word housewife

She soon forgot her lofty dreams

but such, she said, was life

She kept a foot in forestry

or rather kept an eye

on news of dying rainforests:

it sometimes made her cry

When elections came around

They voted with their feet

Perth was hecticly dull at first

But the weather fucking schweet

Sure, they missed SA at times

Ratunga Junction; Blue Route Mall

and their favourite locals

Mr. Delivery, Mrs. Balls

Briony went to the liberal school

and learnt all about integration

she most enjoyed the day trips

to the aboriginal reservation

She told her folks about the trip:

It's tragic, don't you think?

They're just like ours, my darling:

They just watch porn and drink

Briony got a Chinese boyfriend

with a very Chinese name

her parents hated Yat-Pan

she loved him all the same

I'm sorry, chicken, but listen:

It's us or whatsisname

We want you to be happy, sure

just tell us it's a phase

Yat Pan proposed; Briony melted

We've got nothing to lose

Her mother cried alone that night

when told the happy news

Briony fled one warm spring night

She left a note that read:

I'll keep you in my heart forever,

but not inside my head

Jesus fucking christ, that chink

has stolen her, the cunt

I should have known the slitty eye

would pull this sort of stunt

Come now, darling, calm yourself

try not to get annoyed

you've done your job, and anyway:

you're still my Golden Boy.

Words by Matthew Freemantle

LINK:	http://www.thesouthafrican.com/golden-boy/...
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