One day, I met the popular girl.
I’ve sure you’ve met her, too;
The guys line up to see in her in
A sort of endless queue
But she has female friends as well.
She has them round for tea:
I wasn’t sure just why
The popular girl would talk to me
But talk to me to sometimes did.
The whole thing never gibed —
For wildly unpopular
Is how I’m best described
But there’s no more than what I’ve said.
It’s really no big deal:
It just strikes me as odd, or
Maybe even, well, surreal
One day, I met the popular girl,
And now we’re (sort of) friends;
And that’s about the whole of it.
So here, the poem ends