Strange person,

Writing poems instead of stories,

Just one moment, as they scribble down

All their hopes and glories.

I waited and thought wistfully,

Of other places, other times,

While they asked me to spell nonchalant,

And criticize their rhymes.

Not much of a date,

And I’d had my hair done just for this,

But they said they were on a timeline,

And did I like cheese whiz.

Last time I date a writer,

It wasn’t quite my first,

But so far on the scale of things,

This has to be my worst.