The toddler chattering
at the other end of the café does not live
with me but the noise hits me
like an ice cream truck in winter
or an airport speaker system announcing
my gate is open when my fry up has not even
arrived at my breakfast table. I am alert
and my teeth want to answer her about
why the windows are made of glass
and why muffins are called muffins
and if the sky is ever yellow
and if tarantulas can juggle
and why no one in the cafe is talking
but the toddler chattering
at the other end of the café does not live
with me.

Carl Burkitt 2024