A conversation can change the world.
A listening ear opens the universe.
Do you like tea, sir? My barber asked.
Do you like biscuits, sir? Buy biscuit tea.
No need to ever chew a biscuit again.
Does your wife like peaches, raspberries,
things like that? Milkshake Shampoo, sir,
it has all the smells. I once had a client,
sir, who told me he fucked his niece
from his wife’s side. He expected me to say
‘Get in there son!’ I told him to leave
and sort his family out. I’d only shaved
half his head.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I have a crack in the end of my shoe.
It’s not quite talking yet, but when it does
I wonder what it will have to say.
It’s seen quite a lot. Today alone
it walked past a dog kissing a dog’s bum,
two cars honking like posturing birds,
the crumbs of a biscuit spread out
wider than a biscuit, a puddle
when there was no rain in the sky and a
young man talking to himself in a way that
if it was Wednesday he’d be prepping for an interview,
but it was Friday so perhaps it was a date.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

A headache occurs in the nerves,
muscles and blood vessels
surrounding the head.
It is not something happening to the brain.
The brain itself cannot feel pain.
I try to remember that
when I can’t get out of bed.
In those moments when open fields
feel like overcrowded workplace lifts
I tell myself My brain cannot feel pain.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I have many feet for many different occasions.
My everyday Dunlop trainers are size 10.5.
My soon-to-retire football boots are 11.5.
The brown, pointy shoes with ready-for-this laces
I wore at my wedding are 11.
My 33rd birthday slippers are 12, like Dad’s.
I have many faces for many different occasions,
like Dad.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

There are three people sat on the train seats
opposite me. They’re all wearing hats.
One’s red, one’s orange, one’s green.
Their hats, I mean. I wish I could tell you
the colours matched the expression
their faces have. But they aren’t. The person
in the red hat looks incredibly open,
the person in the green hat looks
rather indifferent and the person in the
orange had looks closed off. When I’m smiling
through the room at a house party
discussing the weather and asking
how work is I’m often looking
for the nearest clock.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

My wallet has all sorts in it.
A receipt for a tube of Pringles,
a train ticket that died at Gatwick,
a business card from an escape room,
a Kolo Toure football sticker, 85p in silver,
a Post-It with ‘Charing Cross’ scribbled on it
and two first class stamps
I wish I could send to you.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I thought you wanted a delicious morning treat
and you got a fucking banana?!
The words slipped off her tongue as easily
as the natural yellow wrapper would from
her boyfriend’s unexpectedly controversial snack.
His eyes told me that comment
was just the first one of his five a day.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

Eyelid skin is too thin for light.
A lamp in the morning
may as well be a midnight sunrise.
The veins in my hands are always visible.
It’s a good job they’re under the duvet
when my wife flicks the switch at 7am,
my blood gets a chance to lie in.
You can see my knuckle bones
when I clench my fists.
I try my best to wave.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

You know those speedily said sentences
at the end of chirpy radio adverts like,
Early-repayment-charges-apply-
lending-subject-to-status-and-criteria-
your-home-may-be-repossessed-
if-you-do-not-keep-up-with-
payments-on-your-mortgage?
I think that would be a great way
to say awkward things to friends.
Like, You’ve-got-something-in-your-teeth.
Or, Sorry-I-can’t-make-it-to-your-40th.
Or, Tonight-meant-more-to-me-than-
you’ll-know-I’m-gonna-miss-you.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I once said Goodbye to a poo
when I flushed it down the toilet.
I was incredibly drunk.
Last week I said See ya
to my final mouthful of toast.
When I leave the house with my
nephew or nieces I tell them to
Say goodbye to the house.
They say Bye house!
Tonight I hugged a man in silence,
wishing I was drunk,
wishing he was a poo.

© Carl Burkitt 2020