When I’ve got no-one to talk to
I chat to my missus about football
and her eyes are a plastic ball
forced to play keep-ups on a pebbled beach
on a rare family holiday. She smiles
at how I pronounce the European names
and we don’t have the same opinions
on the away kit design.
She lifts a glass of red wine to her lips
like a whistle at the end of the game
and before I can apologise
she tells me she’s made up a song
for our reserve team goalkeeper.

© Carl Burkitt 2023