Two days early we exchange gag Valentine’s toys and horror stories of car trouble lousy jobs and leaky roofs. Sipping cheap chardonnay we discuss the absurdity of holidays, the impossibility of assigned emotions: on this day you will be happy, thankful, in love. When I prepare to leave your kiss tells me I should stay. But I have appointments waiting and the rain tells me I may already be late. So I drive away with only the taste of pink candy on my tongue.