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

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

The third and final urinal to the left was flooded
so I used the middle one, next to a guy using the right.
Cocks in hand, we nodded at each other’s
neck heads then looked forward in unison.
10 seconds later he said Mate, do you…
and then stopped and zipped up and left.
What was he going to say?! Mate, do you
have a lighter? Or Mate, do you fancy a
beer? Or Mate, do you sometimes wish you
were dead? Or Mate, do you like coconut?
And I would’ve said No, Yes, Yes, No,
but either way, dick in or out, let’s talk soon.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

When a tooth breaks, it’s pretty disconcerting.
Our little mouth hammers can handle all sorts:
smashing up gobstoppers, eroding seaside rock,
knocking off beer bottle tops, nervously nibbling nails.
Cracking a food gravestone takes something special.
Mine was a Dorito, but could’ve quite easily
have been some of the horrid things
I said to people over the years.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

The car had URGENT BLOOD written on its side.
It sent my heart racing. I wondered
what parts of me you could describe as urgent,
other than the bit I’d rather not say.
My feet are slower than they were, scabs
take longer to heal, my reflexes are a little blunter.
My tongue on my moustache after drinking milk
is likely the most urgent part of me. That
and the bit of my brain that scans for fire exits.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

Ticking off a To Do list is a satisfying thing to do.
But after ticking off all the to dos,
what’s left to do? Is that the time to sit
and reflect on all the things you did do
or do you turn the page and find new things to do?
I wonder if animals look back at their achievements.
I hope so. The stuff beavers build is incredible.
It’s sad thinking about a cat running up a tree,
jumping on to the narrowest part of a fence,
down to the ground, over a stream
and not thinking wow, I’m proud of that,
but then I guess that’s just what parkour is.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

Grizzly terrestrial dramas make me wonder
how I might get murdered.
Some days I think I’ll be hit in the soft part
of my head splitting up a street fight.
Others, a bullet through the throat
for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I used to think I was prime kidnap material
but I’m a bit too worthless for that now.
In truth I’m the kind of guy who will die
sneezing a little too hard on a train platform
or for thinking a bit too much.

© Carl Burkitt 2020