I wish I could write you poetry, but you wouldn’t want to see me make the attempt. But here are the things I will do for you: I will re-learn Spanish so that I am capable of reading Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, Gabriela Mistral, and Jorge Luis Borges in their native language. I will even “cutely” read them to you in Spanish. I will re-learn, in Latin, all the prayers my mother taught me. I will never play Mahler for nine hours straight. I will never be able to pronounce your name correctly, but instead of calling you V for Volatility, I will choose something more suitable. I will not watch 300 for the hot men, and avoid making you feel any jealousy. I will climb to the top of a mountain with you, without complaining. I will receive the Eucharist in whatever way you decide is suitable. I will listen to Glass and Reich, if I must, for extended periods of time; and will not make you listen to Webern. I will cook, and not always make you wash the dishes, and I will not force you to make pumpkin bread or any other baked goods for me. (I can also mow lawns!) I will trust you, and be unafraid. And I will love you.I love you Arturo Vásquez, and I don’t care who knows it! Happy Birthday!