I wish I could stare like babies do

and watch the man in the black tracksuit
stand up from the pub garden picnic bench
with a jump in his Air Jordan’s
and give a thumbs up to the couple
on the table next to him chatting about figs
and smile at the woman in the blue Fiesta
who lets him cross the road
to turn right at the Pharmacy
and pretend to limbo into the Co-op
as the automatic doors open
to a cheer from the shopkeeper
who already has his white bloomer prepared
to take home to no one to make a ham sandwich
and text a mate to find out how he’s doing.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

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