The bald head and beard hangs up,
wipes the damp skin of his nose.
His shoulders sit with the biscuit crumbs
on the floor. The chewing of his chewing
gum softens. His eyes are good news.
Have you ever seen a man
folding paper he’s no longer scared of?
His thumbs do the waltz on his phone
which sings back to him immediately.
He orders a chocolate muffin
with his next cup of tea and shuts his laptop.
His chin looks up and strokes the ceiling,
where it remains for my entire life
as I walk out of the coffee shop.
© Carl Burkitt 2022