I know what he wears on a Friday,
that bloke with a ladder on his shoulder,
buckets for hands, Brillo pad smile.
I know what he drinks on a Friday,
that man with a scarf around his neck,
a swinging briefcase, a polar bear on his head.
I know when she lets loose,
that woman with juggling ball children,
running shoe feet, A to B eyes.
I know where he sits alone,
that guy surrounded by hyenas,
inventing a life, tap dancing forever.
© Carl Burkitt 2022