After LinkedIn

1. Use your hand, or something similar.
2. Grip confidently but gently – this is a greeting, not a battle.
3. Look your fellow shaker in the eye, briefly, then at the floor or ceiling.
4. Shake for a maximum of 5 seconds and a minimum of 2 seconds.
5. Say something unrelated to the shake – do not compliment your fellow shaker’s skin softness, nail cleanliness, fingerprint uniqueness.
6. Do not whistle.
7. If you do whistle, whistle your fellow shaker’s favourite song.
8. Do not whistle the tune of a song played at the funeral of your fellow shaker’s loved one.
9. Whistle the shape of words that make you feel comfortable being alive.
10. Wait for your fellow shaker to walk away before rubbing your palm on your trousers.

Carl Burkitt 2023

He’s talking about his midlife crisis –
surfboards, tight T-shirts,
writing romance novels
through the eyes of anyone
who has ever looked at him,
cooking curries from scratch,
giving up pants, wearing Crocs
unironically, giving up walking
through the park with a group
of friends feeling utterly alone,
calling strangers chief of guv,
– and how he can’t wait for it to arrive.

Carl Burkitt 2023

Nothing of note.
I guess scrambled eggs happened.
Two cups of tea.
A walk in a back pocket.
My lid stayed put,
thank God.

Carl Burkitt 2023

and he’s there
behind the eyelids,
sucking moisture
from the bit with colour,
spitting it out down my cheeks.

Carl Burkitt 2023

As much as I enjoyed the warmth of the
armpit of her lime green raincoat –
it was humbling to not be needed
while the rain drowned her hair
like the tears did her cheeks.

Carl Burkitt 2023

Pork pie. Ale. Unfiltered. Leathered.
Powerful. Afternoon. Uncompromising. Laugh.
Pink skull. A beard. United cap. Luxury trainers.
Perky. A yawn. Uncle to strangers. Listening.
Pensive. Away with the fairies. Unsure. Leathered.

Carl Burkitt 2023

I woke up cold,
but not for long. My vacuum sleeping
arrangements and close proximity to
meaty pals warmed me up, prepared me
for the transition to a pan of piping hot oil.
Lobsters scream when dropped
in boiling water, and I always assumed
that’s what the sizzle of a bacon is:
a hellish cry for help. How wrong I was.
When our bodies hit our fate,
the sizzle of my mates translated to,
We’re here, we’re here. The leader
of the pack explained it was a spitting
smoked signal, of sorts, for every human
walking past a window saying,
I can smell bacon, can you smell bacon,
where’s that bacon coming from?

© Carl Burkitt 2023

It was fun guessing the mood of a hand
approaching me. I’d say the majority were
soft, focused, goal orientated. I didn’t mind
the sweaty ones, the jangly-pissed ones
needing three tries to turn me the right way.
But I longed for an aggressive one.
One that would shove me out of nowhere,
surprise me with feeling.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

It takes a while
but I try. It doesn’t
hurt as much as it
looks, but it does –
more than I’d admit.
It’s nice to get a
chance to show off,
to feel alive, to forget
the guy on the right.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

You are wearing my wife’s jumper –
the sage (?) green, thick rollneck
with a million white flecks like stars
across a countryside drive home –
but you are not my wife
because you are telling me
I am in your way and not looking
at me with eyes that have eardrums.

© Carl Burkitt 2023