We are a pair of detectives
tailing someone down
the rough road of Dog Lane.
Your coffee is gaddamn rocket fuel
and my moustache is covered
in the dust of salt and vinegar Pringles.
My knuckles are white,
your nose is the crow flying.
I can’t stop squinting,
the sun is just the wrong height
bouncing off the windscreen;
your sunglasses resist the I told you so.
I don’t know how we got here
and I will never, ever question it.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

He’s sitting with one leg over the other
on a chewing gum stained bench
outside the Tesco toilets
writing in a greetings card.
His black shoes are shining
brighter than the tiles under the wet floor sign.
The hand drawn balloon does not suggest death
but the calming curls of a cursive take care
could be for you.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

His belt buckle was too polished.
He ate Hob Nobs with two hands
and only put hotels on Mayfair.
He drank whiskey in the dark,
rolled towels instead of folding them,
carried tooth picks in a metal case.
He liked to say things like, No bother
and sit on his sofa pretending his skin
was a onesie with a broken zip.
He ate treacle tart for breakfast,
kept his old pager in a shoe box
and read the newspaper every Sunday
just in case he saw himself
in a life he could live.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I’m watching
an extra in the background
of a TV show
I don’t even know the name of.
He looks lost.
He’s holding a cup of tea
like it’s real,
like it’s the only thing
he’s held in months.
The actor with lines
is wearing a leather jacket
that doesn’t suit him at all.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I have 1,000 ghosts
living in my kneecaps.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

she is breathing.
She invented scrambled eggs.
She is an Excel spreadsheet.
She has body language that hears.
She is built from the stuff
they built the Stockport Viaduct from.
She struggles and flourishes.
She tap dances across stars.
She is resilience wrapped in skin
wrapped in vulnerability
wrapped in Cadbury Marvellous Creations.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

He decided to crack on,
look forward,
not worry about things
he could no longer control,
to keep playing darts
and taking the piss
out of John’s crap flights
and shutting the door
until we’d see him in the morning.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

and I think
you realised you are part of something
bigger than yourself
but stopping you
climbing up the television
sends you back to the training ground
where the walls are made of tears.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I imagine people watching me
sitting on the sofa
minding my own business
making up lyrics
to the Gogglebox theme tune.
My snack bowl is empty
so they’ve got nothing
to focus on until I’m done.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

You are crawling
on all fours laughing
with one of my socks
in your mouth.

© Carl Burkitt 2021