Custard coloured urine is a fear of mine.
I spend all day necking water to prevent it.
If there’s ever a stinging feeling in my pee pipe
I feel like I’ve let my body down,
like I’ve pissed over the years of hydration
education bestowed upon me.
I know there’s so much more to worry about:
animal extinction, destruction of the rainforest,
climate change, the distribution of wealth,
but how can I do that
if I can’t even drink enough water?
I bet Greta doesn’t have smelly wee.
We need to work harder.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I was pretty late to the crinkled crisp party.
My family were crisp traditionalists.
We favoured the OG fried spud, beautifully plain.
University broadened my tongue
and introduced me to the real McCoy,
ridged for my pleasure.
I fell for a whole flurry of flavoured fjords:
flame grilled steak slopes, salt and vinegar valleys,
cheese and onion mounds.
I met a landscape of spectacular ups and downs
but when a trough swallowed me up
there was always a town waiting
to give me a hug and much needed (salt and) shake.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I couldn’t find crispy onions in 10pm Morrisons.
I asked a staff member if they sold crispy onions
and he said What are crispy onions?
I did my best to not be a dick and said
A pot of onions that are crispy.
He snapped, No chance mate, we’re not Waitrose.
So I walked away, nose out of joint,
and thought of a world where we spoke nice,
then he skipped over and said Is this them?!
and I screamed Yes! and floated home to my pregnant wife.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

Hearing a colleague taking a shit is exhilarating.
You learn more about them than you do
from any morning lift queue small talk.
You get an insight into their diet,
their pain threshold, their temperament.
I once heard a man in the cubicle next me
talking on the phone while his bum bullets
fired against the watery target beneath him.
I flushed my toilet, for a laugh, and he said
Yes mum, it’s 10am, of course I’m on the loo.
I went home thinking I’d love to be him for a day.

© Carl Burkitt 2020