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About New York City

Funny bit—mate of mine got one, slipped off the table, buck-naked, crashed into a lamp. Laughed my ass off picturin it. Me? I stayed put, but damn, nearly proposed to her hands. Sarcasm aside, it’s bloody brilliant—tension’s gone, feelin like a king. Exaggeratin? Maybe. But when she whispered, “Relax, cowboy,” I was done for—pure Brokeback magic. “Tonight’s the night,” I reckon, monotone as ever, but inside? Fuckin fireworks. Try it, ya won’t regret it—unless ya fall, then ya might.