I used to enjoy watching you
at a family buffet: casually entering
from the opposite entrance to everyone else,
gently observing the sausage rolls
on one perfectly balanced foot
like an inquisitive good cop.
Once they passed inspection
you’d scoop three on to your plate
and move down the trestle table line up
repeating the process with the crisps,
the scotch eggs, the quiche, the nuts, etc.
After a hard minute’s work, satisfied
you’d covered every inch of the scene,
you’d plod back to your chair
hiding the evidence of a ham sandwich.
© Carl Burkitt 2021