Sunday, May 3, 2026

Danny May 3, 2026

 


 

I nearly fell off the bar stool when Danny told me he had a girlfriend

This bony redhead, who lived near me on the 3rd floor of the rooming house in Montclair, was the biggest nerd I knew,  more in love with his fish tank full of guppies then he ever did a human being

 I was his friend by default

I had taken refuge in the rooming house after a hard break up with a woman who had lived with for 3 years. I wasn't ready for a new romance and felt particularly safe on the third floor or the other occupants were just like me wounded souls in desperate need of room in which to heal

Along with Dan on that floor was Mike who I had gone to high school with and Kevin a black kid already attending the local college

What shocked me more was the woman Danny claimed was his girlfriend. the barmaid at the watering hole across the street from the rooming house; she was a slim blonde with breasts to kill for but a standoffishness attitude that frustrated the macho crowd that frequented the place

Everybody hit on her and got nowhere

Danny's presents at the bar surprised me as well, since until then I'd seen them as recluse and with the social life that did not extend beyond the rooming house kitchen. he was particularly shy around the girls who occupied the second floor especially when they teased him about how he dressed and of course his collection of fish

It must have been something to his claim because the barmaid, Maggie, kept buying him drinks as if deliberately trying to get him drunk. she kept teasing him asking him after each new drink which of the girls in the bar he would like to fuck.

This only frustrated him more and he became flustered, a condition that seemed to amuse her

The relationship, however, seem edto have a positive effect on some aspects of his life; he abandoned the T-shirt jeans and sneakers for blouse, slacks and flat heel shoes clothing These seemed a little feminine. I later learned maggie had picked these out for him

He beamed when I took note of the change though it did not stop there. he seemed less infatuated with his fish or at least he ceased rambling on and on about them as he had in the past

He mostly spoke about Maggie and how she helped him to improve his life, such as getting him to tidy up his room when it was historically a pigsty

Only when I caught him one day wearing a French maid's outfit and I got alarmed.

He said she said the costume would inspire him a bit of roleplay

Then I noticed he had started wearing makeup, subtle at first: a bit of eyeliner then eyeshadow then pink lipstick -- which he claimed his girlfriend had helped him with to build up his confidence, each advance with makeup came with an advance of wardrobe as well, more frilly blouses or short skirt and girls shoes with heels

One night at the bar when Danny was not there I asked Maggie about it

Are you trying to turn him into a girl, I asked

Not a girl exactly, she said; it's what he wants

I don't think he realizes exactly where you're taking him, I said

Where do you think I'm taking him she asked me

If you're not making him into a girl then you're certainly making him into a sissy

What's wrong with that

He is a boy, damn it

He's a lonely boy, she said.  I'm helping him find a way to become less lonely

What's next

You'll see, she said and grinned at me

I tried to talk to Danny but he was so infatuated with her and her ideas he wouldn't listen to my words of warning

I discovered what came next when I caught Danny coming out of Kevin's room early one morning makeup smudge especially the lipstick; he didn't look at me but ran straight to his own room

When I saw him next in the bar Danny wasn't Danny anymore

Maggie called him Danielle and he was flirting with the macho men who found him intriguing; indeed Danny looked much better as a girl than he ever did as a boy

When Danny took off with a couple of the macho men, I confronted Maggie

What have you done to him I asked

I've made him  beautiful

Do those men know that he's really a boy

Of course, they do Maggie saudm although I've done my best to modify that aspect

Modify how

For the moment he's got a cage so to make sure he gets his pleasure elsewhere. I'm trying to convince him to take the next step so he can become more of a woman

And Danny is okay with this

He loves it, she said and gave me an odd look:  you sound jealous

Jealous of what

Of what Danny has, she said. he's no longer lonely and he's no longer stays in his room playing with his fish

I don't have any fish, I said reading into her statement what she implied

But you're lonely too. Danny told me all about you, she said

And you want me to become like Danny?

You too would make great sisters, she said. and I'm sure the guys here would fall over you the way they do Danielle would you like me to help you

No fucking way, I said louder than I intended

Well, think about it, she said with a seductive smile. you know where to find me and maybe find yourself too

 

 


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Glint of glass Sept. 3, 2014

  

Summer isn’t over yet, yet it feels as if it is, different, we brainwashed into back to school nonsense from when we were kids, and so must live with this fleeting sense, as I stand down near where the river flows and the churned up surface made by passing ferries, ferries rushing from this side to the city that never sleeps on the far side, where the skyline rises, like jagged vampire teeth, the sun – this late in the day – sparkling off the windows, fire-like, blinding, as I cling to the remaining warmth in anticipation of oncoming chill, this near where her street meets the overlook, and I imagine her coming here to stare out at the river as I do, but up top, not down below where I am now, and I think if I look up I might catch a glimpse of her as she admires the river, the skyline, and the glinting glass, and wonder if she feels summer slipping away, time passing with each incoming and outgoing tide, with the chaos of the ferries, with the darkness that comes when the sun finally succumbs, and falls too far behind the cliffs to give us any glint of glass

 


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Saturday, May 2, 2026

In her foot steps May 28, 2012

 


I walk these streets from memory 

long before I knew of her, 

from a time when there was 

still a Tinker Street CafĂ©, 

and the ghost of my childhood

 clinging to every store, 

if not greeted with 

“Groovy” or “Far Out,

 then with looks that expressed 

the desire for peace on earth 

and people who meant it,

 though I knew when I came here

 this time things were different,

 a bit tainted from a history

 not quite my own, 

my steps following her steps

 as well as my own, 

ghosts of the past strolling along 

passed these familiar landmarks,

 if not the exact same time, 

then along the same by ways, 

pausing where the creek passed 

under us and down 

the trickling falls beyond, 

near where the old rail road terminal rots 

and where I always stop

 to breath the air,

imagining she had done the same

 during her time here.


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Cooking the potato Jan. 20, 2026

  

I feel the chill down deep into my bones, deep frost after heavy snow, piles rising between each car, icicles dripping in the bright sunlight, freezing again, indication of our dilemma when all we want to do is feel warmth again, or a body to rub against the potato in the oven in the old cold water flat, symbolic of something more than cooking food, doing what we need to do to kill time until the potato gets cooked, though now, no longer able to find someone to bake this potato with, to keep warm with, this chill so furious, we need more than a groundhog to help us get to spring, here, safe indoors, oven on, but no potato to rub against.

 


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No sharp edges (2012-13)


 

There are no sharp edges here

Only the soft moist pillows

That take me in

And swallow me whole,

Warmth against my heat,

Receiving me,

And this one hard edge I bring,

Soft rubbing hard,

The determined drip of time

Wearing away my stiff touch

And my desperate need,

A heated exchange,

A snake oil cure

For the ache I feel,

Rubbing me until

I feel no more pain.

There are no soft edges here,

Yet in her soft embrace

She wears me down,

One slow stroke

After another,

Growing more rapid

More intense,

Her silky interior

Yielding to my stiff kiss

Until she wins,

Her supple touch

Defeating me completely.


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Friday, May 1, 2026

Singing her siren’s song may 2012






 I never really fell

for the Cub thing

though I really, really wanted to,

 not the way he did,

 taking her under his wing

like a dusty old dog lapping up fresh water.

I ache to be him,

 to forget what I suspect,

to take advantage of her in every way,

when I know or think I know

 she's really taking me.

I see the savvy look

behind her eyes

and hear the tone of experience

 in her voice,

 even when she sings and I'm conflicted,

 needing to surrender to her siren's song,

desperate to pretend I'm the one

taking her for the ride,

 when all I ache for is

for her to ride me,

 like she does him,

she, the innocent novice

he gets to teach about life

 and maybe more.

 


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Her silence? aug 27, 2024

  

why is she so silent

 a houseplant stirring

 rattles more than her bones do

weak fiber, I think not

 her absence withers men’s souls

as we hang on Vines

she in her middle age

 having no need to revive them

their juice that once tasted so sweet

 has just a touch of bitterness

as she replants her roots

and hopes to grow without them

all her debts of the past

paid in full

and if she chooses to pick fruit

that tangles before her

she can pick and choose

no longer coming to this

out of need or as a cure

for lonesome blues

she has herself to keep company with

and that is more than enough

her silence is not smug nor arrogant

 just satisfied


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