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Jealous, Jealous, Jealous

Jealous, Jealous, Jealous

The swiftness of the Vessa just killed me, 
That speed and the grandeur of the seat, 
The frame’s shine and the four wheels free, 
The maroon leather upholstery neat. 

The diagonal pattern on the seat and back, 
Which made diamond shapes all over, 
Reminded me of Pringles golf wear sack, 
That sportsmen buy, their goods designer. 

The prestige of owning one was immense, 
A Vessa with thin black joystick, gray box, 
Orange on/off button for your own sense, 
To use wisely to be the batteries’ prox. 

That privilege, that air that they all held,
Even made their severe disabilities trivial, 
Counted them as people who so gelled, 
With normality, the cool and the convivial. 

I couldn’t walk at all well, sore feet often, 
And in Primary Two asked of my physio, 
That she give me in order to cheer, soften, 
An electric wheelchair for my portfolio. 

I wasn’t asking for a Vessa, not at all, 
Just a Bec, ‘cos that could be anyone’s
They were blue, just for indoors, did stall, 
And there were some just sat there, tuns. 

My feet got sore and I was badly in pain, 
Because mum insisted on Clarks shoes, 
Old fashioned, hard, so I did complain, 
Ås I saw trainers that would fit my toes, 

My mum’s strict faith said no to sense, 
No to love and yes to abuse, I’d loose, 
So I explained to my physio, no nonsense, 
That Christianity meant my pain, choose. 

My mum thought trainers were worldly, 
Demonic, non-Christian, rough and sinful, 
But I didn’t know my credibility fully, 
And so my physio said no more mouthful. 

I knew it would’ve given me a life, 
A mouth, a mode that could let me talk, 
‘Cos I couldn’t talk and walk, my strife,
Together, simultaneously, talk and walk. 

So at school I was always jealous, 
Of those with a Vessa who got respect, 
From every staff member zealous, 
To enhance their freedom prospect. 

I got my Vessa at university, shiney, 
But I saw it rationally and with thought, 
Understood something had blatantly, 
Gone wrong, since it I’d only just bought. 

But I appreciated my Vessa so much, 
At Uni, no-one knew the status or fuss, 
That’d been attached to it, not to touch, 
At my special school, uh ha, for all of us.

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