Their eyes had met Across the room A crowded bar Crowded with B.O, cigarette smoke And country music. Was this fate? Never before Had she felt electricity like this He sauntered across the room Asked to buy her a drink His blue eyes twinkling The scent of Brut 33 Tantalisingly close. Was this fate? She asked for a cocktail A Pina Colada As she hoped he like to walk In the rain Just like the song Make love a midnight Just like the song That was playing When her parents met Was this fate? His eyes searched hers As her heart beat faster He opened his mouth to speak She leaned forward Inhaled his vintage manly stench Desperate not to miss a word “Isn’t that what pooftas drink?” She blinked once She blinked twice She walked away It wasn’t fate.