I’d like to slow dance with you in the middle of the Museum of Natural Arts with a saxophonist playing in the background and an empty bottle of wine sitting on the most expensive sculpture they have. I’d like to watch you twirl around like you don’t have a care in the world and fall in my arms. I’d like to look out over the museum district and the medical center and tell you that I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the world before the world ends.
I’d like to kiss you at the fifty yard line in front of a hundred thousand people watching the Texans and Patriots at the AFC Championship Game. I’d like to fall to one knee and tell 20 million people watching at home that I love you and that in front of them all I’m asking you to marry me, to have my children and to never stop looking at me like you’re looking at me now.
I’d like to make you a perfect breakfast at 6am and take you to Neiman’s an hour before it opens. Watch you try on dresses and heels and model just for me. I’d like for every associate in the store to be standing there waiting to take care of your every need. I’d like for us to go to my car with a hundred bags knowing that when we got home you won’t be wearing anything at all.
I’d like to train and run a marathon with you.
I’d like for us to take turns massaging the stress and hard work out of each other’s calves and thighs and shoulders. We can run the New York City Marathon and the Boston Marathon and the ones in Beijing and Spain. We can walk trails and climb hills while we’re there, make love on the banks of the French Rivera.
I’d like for us to take our children to Africa, to show them the Pyramids. To allow them to see that Africa isn’t all Aids and poverty, that it isn’t wild animals and crazy dictators. That there’s so much beauty and history there. So much culture and happiness.
I’d like to introduce you to my grandparents. My grandfather would make fun of you, make you laugh. My grandmother would love you and ask to take you shopping. My mother would become one of your bestfriends, my sisters would tell you I’m mean and ask that you ask that I buy them something. I’d like to make the family I already have and the family that you’d given me one with no weal links.
I’d like to make love you to in the backyard with the dog barking and the porch light off. With the extreme cold or extreme heat or maybe one of those perfect Houston nights as our backdrop. Your dress covering us, you on top of me in the lawn chair moaning, forgetting that anyone could be watching. I’d like to make love to you in the parking lot of the Hobby Center after we see a play, tipsy tongues and wet lips destroying a two thousand dollar gown.
I’d like to meet you and love you and love you and love you.
And if the world ends on Friday I have no one to blame but myself.
And if the day comes and life goes on as before on Saturday morning… I still have time to be the man and live the life I write about.