His eyes are teapot spouts
wet from breakfast leaf.
A cheese and tomato sandwich
fits in his hand like an arse
in a corner-sofa. He has a way
of watching an afternoon melt
into an evening like an odd couple
settling their differences
in a safe romantic comedy.
We were wondering where you were.
I’ll wait until my usual seat’s free.
See you again next week!
The tree outside his window
wears the same bark every morning;
armour wrapped around life.

© Carl Burkitt 2022