I was back for my third date with the poet. We were soulmates and I was having a wonderful time. The only problem was I still didn’t know what his name was, and couldn’t remember it from the jacket of his book. It seemed awkward to ask him now. I sneakily eavesdropped on him making a phone call so I could hear him introduce himself.

Unfortunately, when he did so, I heard a stream of five names that all sounded like “carkle, larkle”, followed by a noise that sounded like a throat being cleared. I was going to simply call him Poet for the foreseeable future.