The graffiti is sprayed
out of morning eyes
on to the window of a phone box
stood like a solider
ready to dip into the unknown.
I liked sitting next to the boys
in science class
who had a tag to carve
into the desks: JT Woz Ere,
Dog Dirt, Fuck you.
Each of them knew
who they were and why
they were here. I love eggs
and the way they crack
under pressure.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

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