On Pink Dot Seats

Vello and David arrive at the Pioneer Women's Memorial Gardens

They leave their electric bikes next to a tree.

There's Arthur, whispers David. Back row. 

Good, says Vello. There are empty seats either side of him. 

They sit on the empty seats either side of Arthur.

Those are pink dot seats, says Arthur.

Meaning for ladies? asks David.

Meaning leave empty, says Arthur.

They remain seated anyway.

Is this for T S Eliot? asks Vello.

Yes, says Arthur. We bumped into him by the Malls' Balls, and started talking.

What's his topic? asks David.

Himself, says Arthur. What else? Would either of you like a peach?

No thanks, says Vello. 

David takes one and bites.

A big bite, right down to the peach stone, where something is wriggling.

Look, says David. Do you think it's a fruit fly?

Yes, says Vello. Now what?

I suppose I'll have to declare it, says David.

Later, says Vello. 

T S Eliot walks onto the stage.

Under the shade cloth his face looks greenish.

He starts talking. How pleased he is to be here. Most international guests this year are only appearing on screens.

Many people ask me, says T S Eliot, how it was that as a twenty two year old poet, I could accurately describe the tribulations of old age. Do I dare to eat a peach? Should I part my hair behind? I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. This is the....

Tosh! says Vello

I disagree, says David. Those are my favourite parts of  Prufrock. Very funny.

That's just it, says Vello. Why are they funny?

Maybe not so much now, says David. 

What do you think, Arthur? asks Vello. You're a poet.

Not the best parts , says Arthur.

Hush! hisses a lady turning round in her seat, and noticing three adjacent seats occupied.

She waves to the covid marshal.

Here's trouble, says Vello. David, hand me that peach.