Aldo Zilli is teaching us
how to make pasta in the sunshine.
It’s his mum’s recipe. He talks
of Italy with tomato cheeks.
The red mills of Stockport
are surrounding us; every brick
as strong as the accents around me.
A street below us pretends to be Birmingham
for the filming of Peaky Blinders.
My son is wearing a sky blue football top:
one of four shirts he has
representing four different towns.
Aldo says he was joking when he said
he didn’t want to come here.
I feel a prickle in my chest like an old man
in a pub having his nose put out of joint
and my feet sink into the foundations
just a little bit more.
© Carl Burkitt 2021