It wasn't, but he thought it was poetry.

Him: what does it say on your cup?
Me: If I get lost, please locate the girl with the scarves or RECYCLE ME and SAVE OUR PLANET!!!
Him: That's sweet. Hey, you should write something on mine.
Me: I'm drunk.
Him: Doesn't matter. You're a writer. Write something on it.

Drinking sangria
in Shangri-La
wait for me until
I find paradise
at the bottom and
we'll go together

I've been so lonely for touch. Someone's arm against my back, hand on my hip. It's been so long.

I hope I wrote that phone number down correctly.