You know how it goes:  some kid who’s turning two discovers cake like it’s sliced bread or plutonium the rainbow frosting circling his mouth like the rings of Saturn up into the nose blotching the forehead smothering the hand like a sweet messy mitten or the one about the old lady who gets led into a room on shaky legs for a surprise gathering and ends up fainting just folding like a crepe paper origami pet bumping her head family racing her to the emergency room daughter screaming the whole way to her husband I told you not to scare her or the young blonde who bends over a cake with lit candles and sets her curls on fire men more astounded by the tank top cleavage than the smoldering reek of hair or the manic boy who leans over the table and dive bombs face first into the cake like a kamikaze pilot or a blood thirsty mosquito collapsing the buffet and sending silverware and potato salad into orbit so when your partner announces he wants to give you a party for your birthday and asks who to invite you read the tarot deck of his eyes imagine those bronzy arms enveloping you like a love letter and whisper you causing the ripe of his lips to turn skyward Just you