Sertraline has removed
the observations from my day.
I’m sitting in the cafe
summoning the strength
to notice the pensioner eating a Babybel,
the builder drinking black tea,
the toddler calling his panini a pa-wee-wee.
The muscles around my finger bones are
begging my eyes to watch
the steam floating from the teapot
from across the way form a swaying beard
around the chin of the baby sitting near it.
I have done nothing
harder than reminding my senses
to play with the world today.
They’re too busy thanking the drugs
for not letting me hurt myself.

Carl Burkitt 2025