A Hundred

In fact I'm easy around ones and tens, but I get to feel cornered,
Gritted by teeth, in receipt.
I'm passing through.
Nowadays I don't shine. I'll never figure in a cast of thousands
From a taxi window.
I line up to be reckoned like all the others, so the lights
Never show my name.

You've never asked me what I wish
To be young again, to feel the spring in my vein

Squeezed between you –
Who almost
Had my number –
My face against your silky shoulder
And yours against mine.
And your pink smell.


This gibberish was sparked off by reading a poem by Simon Armitage called Ten Pence Story. After I wrote it I listened to Simon on Youtube; but I don't care, I'm still going to post it!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nF7mEIB0KCo