I found it interesting that I’d never received flowers from John before.  Not once, not any, not until I’d asked to be left alone; then the flowers began.  The last bouquet came four months later on my birthday, along with a box filled with a blue plastic penis.  Hmmm, a penis mixed in with the final thrust of half a dozen roses; at first, the two together left me confused.  So I decided to read the card this time: “Happy Birthday, hope to see you again, never.  Gone to Japan.”  Well, for whatever it’s worth, I figured at least he’d finally said goodbye.  Though the message itself was vague, too vague; however, knowing John’s love for poor metaphors, I took the blue plastic penis to be his way of adding a personal touch to the traditional, ‘fuck you.’  Poor John, my guess is that if he’d had any inkling as to who would really be enjoying his gift, he’d certainly never have sent it.

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