She calls me Craig

and I am finally him
whipping crosses in the box
for the handsome boys to head the ball
into the goal, rolling my shoulders
like they were monster truck wheels,
shooting finger pistols at strangers
firing back smile bullets. She calls me Craig
and I’m in the park pretending
I understand how to kiss with my lips
and like the taste of Sour Chewits.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

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