The food delivery app just told me it misses me.
We’ve never really talked, so I was surprised.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered
to be thought about. In the few times we have
interacted I have been angry – my fingertips hot
from hunger and indecision. Looking up at
my face in those moments cannot be nice.
It makes me think about my son wanting
nothing more than to make me a pretend slice
of toast topped with squid slime and apple cores
while my brain is squashed by matters
that don’t matter in the blink of my lifetime.
I see his shoulders slump to my distraction,
drafting future email subject lines
that will catch my attention.

Carl Burkitt 2024