A Day Off

Two men are sitting at the table, a birthday cake is flaring. You can see the back of a third person's head poking out above the lap of one of the gents. The other guy exclaims: "No, sweetie, I said blow out the candles! The candles!"

Nate loved it. His birthday card, that is.

I just got back. It worked out well: I booked today off for no special reason, and it's Nate's 38th birthday. Went over at lunchtime, with flowers and the goofily perfect card. His trill of a Caribbean laugh fills me with joy.

As do his big sensuous lips, those dreadlocks, that ass.

Who knew? Almost a year later, we still ravish and excite one another.

After lunch at Nate's place, and then "dessert"—which, sweetie, most certainly did not involve birthday candles—we sticky boys had a nap. I don't think I've napped so deeply in years. At 4 pm we finally roused ourselves.

I'm in such a good mood: it feels like my birthday.