Five o’clock finally unclenched—
     rollout swarm dispersed,
     my stomach called a truce
     with last night’s ill-advised fish.

Irby’s by sundown,
       crown reclaimed with Levin—
                        low score,
                             sure,
               but a win is a win
       and a smile’s a better one.

Then Overtime walked in—Patrick,
     taking a seat on *our* side of the pub
     like he’d been written into the script.

You arrived a page later,
    sweetest hug first,
    then down beside Overtime,
    and the three of us let the hours run routes…
    work,
    wonder,
    why-not,
    the kind of everywhere conversation

    that makes time forget to count.

Crappy-hour on the patio after closing,
       empty glasses like quiet trophies,
             then your chariot to Sylvan—

                            a short ride,
                              a long yes.

Hugs, kisses,
      and then your soft demand—

      a little overtime of our own.

No scoreboard,
   just the room leaning toward us
   until 1:30 blew the whistle
   and you exited the way you do—
                       efficient,
                           clean,
    ellipses withheld on purpose.

Tonight is Part III:
        Dogders at home early, (beat the Brewers!)
        Steelers under the lights with Cincinnati.

I’m calling it
    the first toast of my birthday run—
                 Saturday’s the candle,
             tonight’s the first flame.

I’ll work the day straight,
     then Irby’s by five or six
     with a chair that knows your name.

If the universe is kind,
   you’ll nap like you did
   (6:30 to around kickoff),
   then show—
   and we’ll try for the rare thing…

   three nights in a row.

Shhh. Don’t jinx it.

Meet me where the noise gets friendly—
                                patio,
                          screen glow,
                        your shoulder.

Bring your nap; I’ll bring the yes.

If clocks behave,
   we’ll make our own extra time again—

   and call the night won…
                          long after the final whistle.