but the bloke isn’t getting a look in.
He’s picking savoury pastry out of his teeth
with the corner of the bakery’s business card
watching his kids eat the biscuits like grapes.
He’s doing a wonderful job of pretending
he doesn’t care, talking to his wife about
the sky being rather blue and the sea
being rather blue and how the cloud over there
looks a bit like the head of the teacher
who called him a selfish little boy.

© Carl Burkitt 2023