The girl on the next bench has been on the phone
since I got here, boyfriend staring at their joined hands.
I eat a mouthful. Another. Another. Look up.
The boyfriend is on my bench holding his phone
at an angle which makes me think he might
be taking pictures of me over his shoulder
because I am a fat woman eating in public
and this sometimes happens
especially if I am eating fast food
like this. Girl is still on the phone. Not watching.
I could stop but I’m hungry.
Tense mouthful. Tense mouthful.
I look at his screen. He has taken
photos but they are of the flowerbed.
He sees my look, turns and says hello, brightly
orthodontic. His grin is so un-London
that I tractor beam startle a return hullo
before I’ve done any risk assessment.
He says, she been on the phone too long.
I get bored easy. I say, ah. He nods like this
makes a sensible unit of conversation and goes
to photograph the flowerbed more closely.
Girl alternates laughing in French into her phone
with laughing in American at him.
I throw my containers neat and empty away.
He sits by her. She grabs his neck and yanks
his head under her chin. I walk off.