My Prize

He ran a few short yards of brown green grass.
He wasn't

Running for his life, but for a prize.
His prize

Was that blue ribbon I wanted.
What use

Is a blue ribbon to a boy who ran a few short yards of
Brown green grass?

She plucked a few hairs off her face
Covered with

Colours of all unnatural kinds.
I don't

Know what she looks like, really
But

That's the point.
Her prize

Was that boy I wanted.
What use

Is a boy to a girl who doesn't even know
What she looks like?

My consolation for running with that boy
Across those

Few short yards of brown green grass is a
Sticker

An unsatisfactory piece of paper.
My consolation

For trying to be that girl is watching her
And her boy

Kiss when they say that they think that
No-one is

Looking but they both know that we all
Are.

My prize
In this race of speed and this

Contest of beauty is a locker on the top floor.
Blue, like the

Ribbon.
Blue, like the eyes of the

Boy.