I’m Being Followed by David Beckham

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 David Beckham follows me.
He hangs around the supermarket,
urging me to buy organic.
“Its good, its fresh, all that malarkey.
And did you see me, on TV, last Friday?”

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 David Beckham’s stalking me
I saw him down the pub.
“Would you like to see my snaps of Brooklyn?
Victoria sends her love.”
He flashes me his very best shy and boyish grin.
Then offers, apropos nothing much:
“I kicked the ball, it went right in.”

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 David Beckham sits atop my television,
one leg outstretched, the other dangled.
“Could you shift a little to the left, Dave?
You’re blocking the part in ER
where that lovelorn nurse gets shot.”
“I hate this bit,” says David. “It makes me want to cry.”
“I’m a sensitive, new football kind of guy
who doesn’t mind telling all the world
that I love my kid, and I got the girl.”

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 David Beckham tucks me up
in bed at night.
“Sweet dreams, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
Next he slowly disappears,
first his body, then his ears, until his smile
is all that’s left.
A Cheshire Cat with football legs.
I whisper to him “Goodnight Dave.”
That’s all, there’s nothing sexual.
He merely is a top-rate friend,
who’s somehow, strangely, unfanciable.


updated, April 2005

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/im-being-followed-by-david-beckham/