Once upon a time,
we went for a walk,
this led to that,
that led to this,
we kissed.

Adam, she said,
you are sublime
in certain respects
but not others.

Thank you, I said,
but we need to talk
and it comes to this:
you don't exist.

You bastard, she screamed,
you solipsistic creep,
it's all about you
but what about me.
Look what you've done
to my self esteem.

That's odd, I thought,
I didn't write that.

Quite so, she smiled,
I am the fact
and you are the fiction.

You bitch, I screamed.

That's odd, she thought,
I didn't write that.

Enough, dreamed the poet,
will you both shut up.
I'm trying to sleep.

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