Mud brown walking boots
sit at the end of enjoyed-blue jeans beneath
a jacket like a packet of highlighter pens.
The lollipop man waves at me
and the road isn’t this road anymore,
it’s the one miles away
running alongside my primary school.
I want to tickle his dog’s tummy
but I am eight and afraid of talking
to anything I don’t know, so I cross the road
and nod until I’m in my mid thirties.

© Carl Burkitt 2022