The ground is wet
from the last onslaught of rain
not really sure
when it will strike again.
We share the bench
sitting three-a-breast
avoiding the pigeons
seems something like a test.
We each hold a small box
with different toppings
as we sit on cold hard wood
among the seagull droppings.
The smell wafts up
amongst the trees
we debate getting more
with twice the amount of cheese.
