I remember two bottles of orange Reef
in each hand. I remember short sleeve shirts
and silver buckled loafers. I remember vibrating
phones and voicemail tones. I remember
wet-look heads, piss in phone boxes, cartwheels
down high streets. I remember pretending
it wasn’t real. I remember Justin Timberlake.
I remember garlic mayonnaise
and finding the hotel key. I remember
the three of us with 30 seconds alone making
an underage toast, unsure what the words meant.
© Carl Burkitt 2020