I’m talking to a man

who knows a man
who eats dry, non-toasted bagels.
He picks at them
like beige candy floss at a dead fairground.
He’s not a boring man,
says the man I’m talking to,
I actually have a laugh with him.
The silence stands hard between us,
like unsalted butter from the fridge.
How do you eat your bagels? I ask.
I don’t really like them, he says.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

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