A border terrier bounces
on the sand-dusted path
running next to the River Mersey.
Its owners hold hands
as tightly as a found lucky stick
between miniature canines.
They smell of avocado,
poached eggs and hollandaise.
Their shoelaces look light
with nothing but the future
to walk towards. A bottle
of fake Lucozade lies wonkily
in my bag, digging itself
a home in my spine.

© Carl Burkitt 2022