The square tag poking out of the generic teapot
in the paint-by-numbers coffee shop
makes my think about 500cm long sausages,
toast taller than the flat-packed flats opposite,
bacon wider than the road outside
getting battered by predictable rain.
I wouldn’t know what to do if I saw a baked bean
the size of a regulation football,
black pudding as thick as a coffin,
tomato halves like train wheels out of here.
Please don’t show me the hen that laid
the fried egg larger than the town I’m in.
© Carl Burkitt 2022