Tom and I had a funny Valentine's Day dinner last night--nothing more than hamburgers and potato chips--although I did make the chips myself, which counts for a lot. I also made strawberry shortcake, but we were too full of hamburgers and potato chips to eat it. So it seems likely we'll be having strawberry shortcake for breakfast. Paul is spending the weekend with friends, and Tom and I had some hopes we might go do something fun ourselves. But of course it is supposed to snow again today, which means we probably can't drive to Portland and visit the museum and go out to lunch and take a walk along the waterfront. And Paul borrowed Tom's snowshoes, which means we can't play in the snow. We might be stuck having to go to the yard sale at the credit union. Let's hope there's a lot of weird 1980s bank stuff to sort through.

Yesterday my friend Alyssa, who teaches English at a vocational high school, sent me some poems that her students had written for Valentine's Day. Here's one of them:

One night at the theater
Seeing her there in black everything and ripped-up jeans.
I would go outside with her in between acts,
      thinking I looked cool smoking cigarettes like someone important.
She smoked far more than me and far more than anyone should.
But who am I to judge. I just found love smoking
      a Newport outside in the cold.
I could not take her home and she could not take me,
      so we sat in the frigid air for hours.
We would have stayed til sunrise but she looked at her phone
      and saw that her curfew had crept up on us.
Maybe it was because I gave her my jacket.
Maybe it was because I put gas in her car.
Maybe it’s because I buy her cheap cancer.
Maybe it’s because I have big gauges and a hipster haircut.
Or maybe it’s because when I look at her today
I still feel the same way
As that night.

And here's another:

Love is like winter.
It is pretty harsh.
You can get caught up in storms.
You can try to ignore it, but eventually
You will have to shovel the snow.