This morning right after I got up there was knock on the door. A rather urgent knock. I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes, my hair in all directions, half awake, cup of coffee in my hand, and swung open the door. There’s a gorgeous thing, tall, gracile, coifed and made up in some bizarre get up like something out Jimi Hendrix’s closet. She looked flabbergasted. Can I help you? Oh. Is this 2671 and a half? No. Oh. They’re upstairs. Upstairs? Yeah, around the corner. Oh, I’m sorry. Anytime. I stepped back and though the window watched that sweet package go down the stairs and thought how this neighborhood used to be all queers.
Then coming home tonight there was a shattering Asian babe in the shortest dress and highest heels ever hanging in my driveway. She was smoking a cigarette and the smoke wreathed her head and only added to the picture and I thought how this neighborhood used to be all queers.
The gay guys are gone, most of them. It’s all breeders and babes now. The breeders are on the street below, propagating the species and fighting over preschools. The babes are on our street, walking their dogs or knocking on the wrong doors or waiting in driveways and smoking and looking drop dead gorgeous. Is that for the better? Probably not…the neighborhood used to be a lot more fun. I miss the gay guys. Miss them a lot. Then again, from a purely aesthetic point of view it’s a nice change of scenery for an old man and besides, children are important. I know I was. Not that I had any.