Scene 1: (Periwinkle room, Jigglypuff poster, soft alternative music) I stomp in, Niagara Falls streaming Throw his copy of Pablo Neruda poetry into the trash And start reading Virginia Woolf Poetic revolution. That’ll show him
Scene 2: (Cafe atmosphere, fading laughter, upbeat music) Whoa. That guy. Not that one. The one on the left Kinda nice, kinda cute And he laughed at my joke Jane Austen romances and Zooey Glass daydreams fill my waking moments
Scene 3: (Restaurant, muffled conversations, classical music) What is he staring at? Who is he staring at? Oh no awkward conversation gap Say something, quick, anything “The weather is nice tonight, yeah?” Not that. But he laughs Night saved
Scene 4: (Outside the restaurant, night breezes, car noises) “That was nice,” He casually mentions Yeah. Nice. Not great. Amazing. Life-altering. Nice. The same adjective used to describe the weather Devoid of meaning.
Scene 5: (Car, radio on silent, crickets chirping) “I wanted to give you something” Hands me, Oh dear god no, A copy of Neruda That ****** Neruda.