I have never used a pickup line,
but if I were to it would be
"Come with me if you want to live."
Who doesn't want to live?
And not just live as opposed to die,
but live as opposed to stagnate,
stay trapped, become not only less
than you could be but less than you are.
Most exist, some live, and some, surely,
who merely exist, long to live, to engage,
to explode the nodes of possibility that lie
all around us, to which we mostly become
blinded by fear and doubt and distrust
and—eventually—disinterest,
and to ride the resultant geysers
of stimuli and reaction into an experience
that excites and invigorates identity
into compelling new configurations
of stimulated senses and an enthralled mind.
"If you want to live," I'd say,
and with one last, intense look
into their eyes, turn and walk away.