I saw a man having a jog in a sports top,
running shoes and a pair of jeans.
He didn’t look the type. I’m ashamed to say
his neat hair and thin-rimmed glasses
had me thinking he was one of those
thoroughly prepared, got the right gear kind of fellas.
I wonder what other surprises he pulls.
Maybe he swims with a fleece on,
does the gardening in a British racing green thong,
eats a chicken breast with a teaspoon.
Maybe he’s one of those otherworldly creatures
who walks around with his head held high
not caring what anyone else thinks.

© Carl Burkitt 2020