At the open mic
in front of the strangers
he played the song
that he wrote just for her.

They all rooted for him
as she,
young gamine, starry-souled
looked on, heart fully open
and ready to take in
whatever he had to offer.
The entire crowd wanted their love to win
until they heard him sing
and heard his song
and slowly
they’re support turned
into something
else.

He said he had wanted to impress her
and he did
but he also impressed the audience
with his inability with a rhyme and rhythm
and sense of time
and the wastage thereof of all the attendants’ contributions in that regard.

But isn’t that the way of the open mic?
Isn’t that the way of the performer?
Isn’t that the way of new love?
Yes. The answers to all those was “yes.”