Role Play Poem by Paul Brookes

The silver spoon in your mouth was spat out, but the taste remained
but then you were always good at pretending, an under cover guy.
chameleon from thence to now wearing perfect disguises.

I wondered where you got your money, you always had some
but nasty and inclement thoughts said you sold all you had,
your body.
instead you were the payee but never to me, I often wonder why.

playing the game so, playing at being poor, a part
rolling the dice which knew were loaded, always in your favour.
you took, like the ragged coat you affectedly wore, lead role.
an uptown boy slumming it with us poor down heeled suckers.

wiping the dirt from your feet to enter the magic doors
in fact every door opened to you with those film star looks
you flaunted with outrageous debonair glee.
that lax attention to detail which was in fact meticulous.

ah you liked your boys rough and uneducated
pretending to be other hiding behind the rags.
to show your scars willingly and never once did we guess
you were a poor little rich kid looking for kicks.