She’s wearing a flannel shirt
the size of a blanket you would sit on at a picnic
with five mates, gossiping over pitted olives and hummus
with crisps made out of lentils or chickpeas.
She’s chatted to everyone who has walked into
this pub, asked them about their weekends,
invited them to tackle two down on her crossword.
She’s drinking a glass of sparkling wine
she’s calling her bubbles while scrolling
on her phone until the door opens.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

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