A poem for the window of the pub

Your see-through skin
let’s me know what’s happening
in your heart
when I cannot step in:
dogs eating Mini Cheddars,
ale recommendations,
arguments over the best way
to cook liver between
men who have never cooked
dinner before, relentless lower
league football opinions,
vegetarian pie scepticism,
spliced crisp packet sharing,
relentless piss-taking, reluctant
opening up and hands on shoulders.

Carl Burkitt 2024

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