I bite my finger nails. I like to nibble my claws.
Not when I’m nervous, when I’m bored.
Anxiousness gets my legs dancing.
Before an exam I could ride a tricycle
up a black ice covered mountain.
When a video conference call dials
I’m Road Runner smashing through a wall.
Sat around a meeting room table waiting for my turn
to announce my name and one fact about me
I could teach Michael Flatley a thing or two.
When I stood at the end of the aisle on that sunny
October morning, I was a gold spray-painted busker
frozen on the local high street.
© Carl Burkitt 2020