Pass the Parcel

I would always win pass the parcel
In days left to memory;
It would always be me.
The world froze with a click
And everybody would look, actually look
Whilst I tore at the paper with feral artlessness;
Scello-tape stuck to finger and thumb.
I asked a girl out yesterday
After English lit, an hour before art.
A girl with curious appeal;

Clumsy, I heard:
'Like a hot-dog down the hallway';
She was in the bag, a done deal.
Except, she declined my advance.
Her half-honey-tinted rivulets
Of mallow-soaked hair was to be washed.
She spoke more, but my head just danced.
My stomach sailed into knots, cheeks flushed.
A fallen tear dropped to my quivering lip.
I heard every word.
I hear everyone's words.

I may not go out drinking,
win the jackpot on 'the fruity'
I may not win the heart of the girl
Who disturbs every rational thought
Swims through my dreams, stains my quilt.
I may not win a tenner on the lottery
Or many friends with my passion for poetry
But Lady Luck was my imaginary friend
When the parcel would be pushed to me
And the music would end.