The man with the same length hair
on his head as the hair on his chin
is sitting in the café with an unopened pot
of Kenco coffee on the table in front of him.
A back up plan? A threat? Who knows?
His colleague is at the counter
ordering two skinny lattes from his balmed lips.
The man with the same length hair
on his head as the hair on his chin
is looking out of the window.
Bored? Excited? Who knows?
His feet are tapping along to Kelly Clarkson.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

Her friends don’t know
whether she’s talking with pride or concern.
She takes a sip of her tea, dabs her mouth
with a cotton hanky from her cardigan sleeve.
That’s enough about mine, she says,
how are your pups doing?

© Carl Burkitt 2022

There’s a train running through ASDA.
It sounds like a steam engine but
it’s wearing red corduroy trousers,
a pink t-shirt with a white shark,
gently scuffed navy blue trainers,
and a pair of striped yellow socks.
It doesn’t know where it’s going
but it’s trying it’s very best
to find me the egg aisle.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

A circular skylight sits in the ceiling
pretending it’s the only thing
shining light on everything. The warm breakfast
butter curls like a long lost hug
next to pancakes as soft as bedding.
Uninvited mushrooms pop up in the garden
and are welcomed with a wave;
this place is not just dog friendly.
A toddler is outside chasing bubbles
desperate for the fun to never pop.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

According to their email
there is a seat waiting with my name on.
I could go anywhere
for just a few quid, except here
where the hills are thumbs up
and blue tractors pop to the shops for milk,
a place where the roads are spaghetti
and the sheep have never heard of bills.
There’s a tree here with apples
who nod their heads hello
when you arrive.
I’m not sure how we got here
but I’m sure it involved sweat and tears.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

I mishear a kid’s song
and see you in a cartoon cloud
yelling at my thoughts to change
before it’s too late.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

Careful. Slowly. Hold on to the side.
Careful. Gently. Use your hands.
We don’t need to do that. Careful.
Gently. Hold on. Slowly. Careful.
On and on we talk to ourselves
hoping not to hurt ourselves again.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

I’m crossing my fingers
they call out to you, mate,
break from their shells,
wave, smile, laugh, anything
your fellow humans are refusing
to do to you down aisle 12.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

I’m watching
eight young men with red cheeks
and somber faces concentrating
as they carry a lifetime on their shoulder.
A dad is holding a sword
instead of the hand of his son.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

From the rusty bricked bridge
you are a view from the TV show Virgin River.
The sun has decided to float
above the water, shine a light on the stillness
and ignore the drama of the locals,
for now.

© Carl Burkitt 2022