Adam sent my Valentine away with his noise. I should have known better. Every one says three’s a crowd. As soon as I picked up my pen, I woke the muse up. He wasn’t happy that I was thinking of someone else.
“Would you be my Valentine?” I wrote.
Adam whispered in my ear, “Have you already forgotten what happened last year?”
Well, I had, until he brought it up. It was a mini-disaster. Last year’s Valentine had a discerning palette. I thought I was a wonderful cook. I guess I over-estimated my abilities. Dinner went untouched, the romance fizzled after that. Adam came to the rescue.
With Adam’s eyes on my every word, I realized I’d have to try harder.
I borrowed the words of Pablo Neruda, they said what I felt. I quickly wrote,
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
Adam would have none of it. “If you really felt it, you’d go ahead and say it in your own words.”
Okay. I thought for a bit, and wrote this down,
I stretched my lips when you smiled. I bared my teeth when you grinned. I cackled when you laughed. That, to me, was the beginning of an honest relationship. It turns out, you were my latest bad idea.
Adam in my ear: Great, now we’re getting somewhere. What do we do with bad ideas?
Today, I’ll do what I’ve always done. I’ll listen to the tug of my heart, and the voices in my head. I’ll pick up my pen, and draw a picture with my words. Pray that you’ll be in it. I cannot promise that you will.
My Valentine banished, all I had left was Adam.
Then he said: And that is exactly as it should be.