The public bench
by the shop my brother had his first
weekend job no longer has
the word BEEF spray painted on it.
The car park is exactly as it was:
square, full of cars, no wildlife to hide in.
My eyes are three and a half
decades old but can still see the lads
who told me to give them my change.
Lactic acid leaves muscles eventually
but that feeling you are meat never does.
I pushed a sleeping cub outside the shop today
while a lion not from round here
gathered mini Twisters and Cornettos.
We ate them as the sun seasoned our skin.

© Carl Burkitt 2022