Oh- okay. Uh... I couldn't work out a name but that's okay, right?

[This was his chance to finally be in a club instead of just standing outside the window and looking in while trying to share in a bit of secondhand joy. He stood and unfolded a piece of paper he'd brought, and hoped he kind of understand what exactly poetry was like because he had no idea. But everybody always said poetry was just writing how you felt and letting your pencil run away with you, right?

So he'll just write about something that happened with him recently!]

A floating dock cradled by water,
just her and just me,
The moon big and silver,
the stars and black sea.

We didn't wanna sing,
looks and smiles a fake,
so we offered our no-thanks
and set out for the star-filled lake.

Stars blinked and stars flew,
one-thousand, two-thousand, three.
When I got the constellations all wrong,
you were you, and you never laughed at me.

And up above, within their spheres,
with luck held in their sway,
I'd not give up for fate itself,
the time we shared today.

...Yeah, that's it.

[What an odd poem. But he lowered the paper and stared expectantly, perhaps a bit pink in the face.]

I usually chuck the shit I write and keep it to myself. Well, no more, dammit!