“I hate that
fey way
you stand

hand on hip
such.. a poser! ”

I smile inside as he copies me.

“I see...”
I say

(thinking I had thought
of a clever way)

to hide the awkwardness
of the broken arm.

You go on
like a river in spate
(a river of spite)

Go on mate
get it off your chest.

“I hate that flick of the hair
that toss of the curls
as if you were a girl! ”

I smile inside as he mimics me.

“I see...”
I say

(thinking I had thought
of a good way)

to hide the nervous tick
the paralysis had brought.

“And when you talk
- or mumble rather –
- you always rest your cheek
- in your hand
- like a bad actor
- always the same gesture! ”

“I see...”
I say

(thinking I had thought
of an excellent way)

to hide the way
the face collapses