Michael chuckled. He had never been the biggest fan of Rimbaud, due mostly to the fact that when Rimbaud came into his world view, he was entirely obsessed with Neruda. Rimbaud was on the back burner to be discovered at some later date, maybe even tonight. So with a curious eyebrow, Michael sidelonged a glance at the uneasy looking ginger.
"What a life. True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world," he quoted what little else of Rimbaud and smiled small. "Wondering why you're here with me, are you?" Michael questioned with a more bemused tone that fell short on being scientifically detached.
Michael tucked his chin a bit to his chest and breathed, "Because I'd rather spend a night with someone who appreciates poetry than watching Terry and Harmony make some of their own. During a movie. With me sitting next to them." He shrugged, "As cute as they are together. And it looked like you could use some time away too."
Michael queued up with the ginger and watched the proceedings around them. Predictably, there were all sorts but many of them older and decidedly quirky looking. This definitely was his real world or true life, but that was the point. To suspend the mundane and enjoy, if only for a couple of hours.
"And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture."