I woke up in the middle of Dawson’s Creek.
No one knew when the evening would come.
A man coughed until his bus showed up.
I could hear a kettle screaming.
Puddles gathered like gossiping nuns.
I remember everything about that ham sandwich.
Who knew that many people have freckles?
Coffee table dust whispers all day.
Your smile killed a kitten.
I still text you once a year.
I still send you a text once a year.
Once a year I’ll text you before midnight.
I wonder if you know I text you every year.
I don’t know why I bother texting you every year.
I wish I took the time to text you.

© Carl Burkitt 2020