Sixty thousand thoughts

We have over 60,000 thoughts a day. Peaches.
Did I leave the gas on? What’s she looking at?
What’s he looking at? I don’t have a gas oven.
Apples. Shit shoes. Graeme had nice cheeks.
Sausages. I want a Mars Bar. When did it last snow?
Parkour! Bananarama. My back hurts.
Jim’s forks feel right in my hands. Bacon.
Look left. Look right. Pigeon eggs? Dust is skin.
Last night a DJ saved my life. Cherry yogurt.
I wonder if Scott liked the dumplings. Mini discs.
My name is almost car. Toy Story. Pigs.
Will my baby be able to roll its tongue?
Mmmm Danone.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

DIY by B. Loke

1. Fingernail On The Head
2. Saw Arse
3. Pros and Concrete
4. Hammer Hands
5. Cheap Drills
6. Knob The Builder
7. Does What It Says On The Tinny
8. Deep Screwdriver
9. NUTS And Bolts
10. Bristle While We Work
11. Brick Head
12. DIY Always Me?
13. Wallpaper Over The Cracks

© Carl Burkitt 2020

Mild peril

A nine-year-old asks a 12-year old
Why do you use a fork like that? Are you stupid?
A waiter has a seed in his front two teeth.
My finger pops through the toilet roll.
A two hour train journey gets slowed
into a four hour train journey.
I go up a notch on my decade old belt.
A woman crosses the road when the man is red.
I lose a tenner and then find it in my wallet.
A pigeon slips off a kerb.
I finally understand Finding Nemo’s
‘Mild Peril’ classification.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

Smelly wee

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

Traditionalists

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