He was visiting from India on business, and I was gazing at the Olympics from the Sculpture Park dressed in a suit I found at Goodwill. He asked if I had dinner plans, and I let him take me out for salmon. We drank wine from Walla Walla. At Golden Gardens, I gave him a real taste of Seattle, between blankets made of the fibers from recycled plastic bottles. He licked my butthole like he was digging the frosting out of a cream-filled doughnut. I nibbled his ears like I was munching on a piece of ginger. We made love till he got called back to his white-collar digital world. I returned to my tent on the Burke-Gilman. Every now and then, he sends me a steamy message on Facebook, which keeps me warm as I repair my friends’ bikes under the bridge. He wants me to move to be with him—but I couldn’t bear to leave my blackberry covered cave. E, AGE UNKNOWN
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