Don't hold your breath. That misleading titular question, which makes this play sound like Eurocratic policy wonking, is not going to be answered. Banish all thoughts of urban regeneration, even if Tate Liverpool does get a passing mention. For The Pool is an account of nothing more nor less than a boy and girl meeting cute-ish, and certainly sharp-ish, in the North-West.

After some complicated shenanigans involving a one-night stand, cockney geezer David finds himself stranded without money for a train fare home. In a betting shop to try to maximise his meagre readies, he gets chatting to local girl employee Tina. She bunks off to show him the city and before long these two lonely souls are on a cathedral roof treating each other to the more grating edges of their particular accents.

It's not exactly Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy wafting around Vienna in Before Sunrise - there are only a handful of props, for starters - but it's enjoyable enough. Nonetheless, we struggle to buy into the complex emotional hinterlands of family betrayals and illnesses that both characters are extremely insistent upon.

What gives The Pool some novelty value is the fact that it's a contemporary drama in verse. Writers James Brough and Helen Elizabeth, who also turn in adequate performances as David and Tina, handle the lines skilfully, unobtrusively and, best of all, without tum-ti-tums. They have the pair address the audience individually, where David and Tina tell us of their growing feelings for each other, and then provide scenes of expository dialogue, after which we're never quite sure how they've reached such fond conclusions. David remains tiresomely, boorishly certain of a sexual conquest throughout.

How to end something like this? Not in the manner that Brough and Elizabeth have chosen, that's for sure. The ludicrously abrupt and jarring conclusion suggests that the real last scene blew away and landed in a ferryless Mersey, leaving them to scrabble about frantically for something to substitute. The odd, loud couple that they've created deserve better than so summary a dismissal.

• Until 21 April (0870 060 1742).