I wonder what it takes
to be the kind of guy who packs an umbrella
in the exterior drinks holder of his work bag,
especially one with a cover that matches his socks.
He’s standing in the Victoria line tube carriage
with a shirt made personally for him
by the founder of Uniqlo, I assume.
Do his biceps know how lucky they are?
I think about the strangers I write about
and worry I get them all wrong
or project too much of me on to them.
Do they ever realise I am writing about them?
Shit, he’s looking at my notebook.
Goodness me he’s handsome.
His fringe pours down his forehead
like the rain he will protect himself from later.
I forgot to pack a coat this morning. 

Carl Burkitt 2025

It’s just a frog
jumping from the back of a shed
I am dismantling in my garden,
not my youth leaping out of my chest
away from jobs it doesn’t understand.

Carl Burkitt 2025

James Bond started following me.
I first noticed him in the precinct on my way to ASDA
and he walked behind me into Oxfam
and eventually Costa. He was wearing
a natty tuxedo and had a kind of pistol, I suppose.
I was trying to see if he had any gadgets
like exploding pens or a redeemable personality
but he was sort of just staggering around
with Martini-breath. I’m sure
there were other references I missed
because I’m not really a fan of the franchise.

Carl Burkitt 2025

like the health and safety instructor in my old job who bent his knees to pick up a box and farted or the under 12s football coach who called me ‘Legs’ because of a last-ditch sliding tackle I made or the boy at my son’s school who said I’m an embarrassing dad or the uncle who admitted he gets sad sometimes or the baby I saw nibbling a watermelon slice with her toes instead of her teeth or the dad who had to say goodbye to his 16-year-old son in a crematorium surrounded by 16-year-olds unsure how they got there or the dog in the local pub who eats Mini Cheddars.

Carl Burkitt 2025

your apple cores
your leftover cold egg
your empty Pom-Bear packets
your mispronounced words
your vomiting bugs
your soil bugs
your soiling my pants bugs
your fingertips pointing at new
your whispers
your explosions
your
everything 

Carl Burkitt 2025

[WILLIAM WONKER is having a tough time at school.]

[Curtain]

Carl Burkitt 2025

My son brought a TV control on to this tram. 
He’s pressing play as we leave each station 
and pause when we stop at the next. 
When he presses rewind I think back to a time 
when I forgot to look at public transport 
like mechanical animals 
designed to help us explore their wild 
or treat the opportunity to a window seat 
with the excitement of being born.
I’m wearing a green hat and green shoes
because two years ago I said I liked
the green lights on our Christmas tree
and now my son tells everyone its my favourite colour.
He’s just pressed fast forward
and he’s eating mint choc chip ice cream
standing on the grass by my gravestone.
 
Carl Burkitt 2025

Your hoodie is dark 
like the sky above this shop 
or the chocolate around your waffle cone. 
You went for vanilla today, 
instead of strawberry, 
a sweet plea for the white clouds to stay. 

Carl Burkitt 2025

[POSTMAN PAUL is delivering letters.]

[ED FROM  NUMBER 3 spots Postman Paul from across the road.]

ED FROM  NUMBER 3: Morning Postman Pa-

[Postman Paul headbutts Ed From Number 3.]

[Curtain]

Carl Burkitt 2025

There’s a poo on the playground.
The kids are guessing
whether it’s cat, dog, or human.
A lot of them want to touch it.
A few of them wonder
if it’s from the bottom of a monster
or one of their teachers.
The monsters deny it.
The teachers put cones around it.
A mum runs a pram wheel through it. 

Carl Burkitt 2025