He’s eating ready salted crisps
because they are plain enough
not to upset his tongue or tummy.
He has dropped down from 5% beer
to a 4% because fun can fly at him
too hard sometimes. He’s sat
by the window, waving at the toddler
who won’t stop staring at his beard.
It’s a reasonably sunny day,
with just the right about of wind –
the kind that picks up litter and makes
standard afternoons feel more magical
than intended.

© Carl Burkitt 2023