alone,
dance music no longer crawling
out of the pub, the sun rising with
disappointment in him, Londoners
going to work with top buttons,
city farm animals waiting for food,
his dangling feet desperate for an owner
with a tongue that says what it means.
He would be searching for a patch of grass
to rest his spine until a lack of courage
knocked him out – a chance to dream
about walking down the river, a nervous
bowl of chips, ring fingers brushing briefly
while passing over a bottle of wine.

Carl Burkitt 2024