Just at home, got a bit of internet time, which I don't normally have. Thought you might like another poem.
Pecking Order
George,
A forty-something male
Gave a patronising smile
To Dean
A twenty-something male
Smug in his belief
That his age made him wiser
And his class
More human.
Dean covered up his indignation
At the staid hoary suit.
Behold.
The grey pinstripes
Of a man with no blood.
See him tower
Over the powerless
Or those with wide eyes
And lolling mouths.
"Automatic good manners
Serves a purpose,"
Says George,
"It goes back to the Normans
Kept the peasants in check."
Dean was a stranger here
And thought best to do as the Romans.
Once business was done
He'd soon be home
Playing computer games
And smoking dope.
But George
Had a hard day's work ahead
And was dependent on trainees.
"Where's my temp with the nose stud?"
He muttered.
She was in the car park
Smoking roll-ups
Wondering
What to make Dean
For his tea.
Daniel Tavet(c)