Give it a minute

Tim takes his time walking over to his two mates –
salt and pepper beards, cue ball heads, thinning
jumpers – with appropriate caution in each
of his steps while his fingers clutch three pints
of ale in an amber triangle. He daren’t look up.
You know what, Tim?
What’s that?
You could be a barman.
You think?
If it weren’t for all that paint on your hands,
dirty bugger
. The laughter clinks
like a trough of empty bottles clattering
into a glass recycling bin. The air softens
as the dregs of previous pints are downed.
How’s Debs coping, Tim?
Better. Thanks for asking.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s