The morning after

The sun rose and birds sang
and all those obvious things.
Coffee tables carried on kicking me,
buses still came in giggling twos,
salt and vinegar Pringles didn’t go easy
on the underside of my open mouth,
the uphill cycle to work was steeper, if anything.
I was no closer to knowing the name
of the guy I’d been speaking to for six months,
his tie was still far too short
and he didn’t take a day off
from microwaving his salmon lunch.
When I went to the off license
the man behind the counter gave me a wink
and didn’t even ask about you.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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