Chester Birming

The sign on the motorway has snapped
into a lanyard around the neck of a man
at a work conference holding a blueberry muffin.
It was the last one on the complimentary
breakfast table and he feels terrible
for taking it. He is determined to enjoy it
with a builder’s tea once the drink’s queue
has died down. He doesn’t know anyone
in here. The eyes of strangers are headlights
travelling together, knowing where they’re going,
unblinking. A woman, lost with a pain au chocolat,
floats towards Chester. She asks him how he’s doing
and he finds himself talking about McDonald’s
hash browns and the magic of cat’s eyes.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

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