Charisma wears a room
like a multi-coloured waistcoat.
He’s walking through the wedding
holding a pork sausage in his hand.
It’s cooked. It’s cold.
He’s a vegetarian
but he won’t let the get in the way
of making an impression.

Carl Burkitt 2024

“I can’t quite put my finger on
why he’s annoying, to be honest,”
the man yells down a Bluetooth headset,
his voice bouncing off
the swimming pool changing room tiles,
his cackle smashing into locker doors,
his verruca plaster peeling off his big toe,
his penis knocking against his kneecaps.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling Haaland completes jigsaw puzzles
when he needs a rest from being awake.
He asks for help
with 50-piece puzzles
but can down 36ers with his eyes closed.
My muscles soften watching him
flip all the pieces to be face up and
find the corners before lining up the edge bits
while I wait for his pesto pasta to cool down.

Carl Burkitt 2024

He’s eating Mini Cheddars by the bar
and puts a couple over his eyes
pretending they’re tiny spectacles.
The lads laugh
then ask him about his son
and how his wife is getting on
and if work has picked up.
He shoves six more Mini Cheddars
in his mouth, smiles
with puffed out cheeks and calls himself
“Harry the Happy Hamster”.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling Haaland has stopped calling
his dad “Daddy” and mum “Mummy”.
He knows how to play dominoes as of yesterday
and apologises now for accidentally hurting anyone.
Before we know it he will be
using his several hundred thousand pounds a week
wages to book his own train tickets,
buy his own trousers, cook a plant based ramen
for “Mum” and “Dad”.

Carl Burkitt 2024

They’re next to the weight machines
saying words like “snatch” and “jerk”.
Red says Green’s triceps are bigger
than last week, Green says Red’s leg
can’t stop getting thicker. Red has sweat
on his forehead and Green grabs him
some tissue. It’s a Monday, so Green
brings up the weekend with his family
and playing football with his son.
Red looks at the weak, scrunched up
tissue in Green’s knuckles – the way
it’s not putting up a fight to leave –
and listens to plans he wasn’t involved in.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Graeme Souness works
for the life insurance company near me.
He’s marching around the carpark on his lunch
wearing a black trench coat
and barking down a blue tooth headset.
He’s much taller than I imagined,
and far less Scottish,
but he’s kicking a Coke can
with the anger of a penalty.

Carl Burkitt 2024

I spent a week in a volcano.
It was dormant
so I didn’t mind it too much.
I pottered about, tickled its tummy,
took advantage of its chilled disposition
then left refreshed
ready for something to set fire
to my imagination.

Carl Burkitt 2024

This is the point in the film
where you come back to life,
so I tidy my fringe to hide
the receding bits you won’t recognise.
I offer to buy you a drink, something
you never got the chance to try,
and I do my best to explain
the reasons I no longer eat meat
in a way you won’t call me names,
and help you pronounce
the names of Premier League players
I know you will love.
I offer to buy you a drink again
and you take my hand, fight
the urge to complain about the music
and recommend we get a taxi
rather than walk the road way home.

Carl Burkitt 2024

He took his shirt off and saw a pigeon
using his chest hair as a nest.
‘How long have you been there?’
he asked the pigeon, in a soft voice,
as not to startle the poor thing.
The pigeon said nothing. It stretched
its wings wide, feathers tickling his nipples,
and pecked his beak in a way as to say,
‘How long has your chest been beneath me?’
The man said nothing. He stretched
his brain to imagine a life without anyone
using his chest hair as a nest.

Carl Burkitt 2024