88 Lines About 44 Men

[With apologies to The Nails, whose “88 Lines About 44 Women” was the risqué alterna-hit of 1985. If you know the song, you’ll be able add the low-budget, Casio VL Tone synth sounds and humming. If not, the following won’t be as clever as I hoped it would be, even with the limping scansion and tortured syntax. (If you’re a man whom I’ve known and didn’t make the list, think a minute: are you glad or sorry?) Five years of pseudonyms temporarily on hold…]

Don, he was my first big ex,
At first his hairpiece fooled everyone

Brian, strangely, loves Scooby Doo
Have to admit he made law school fun

Robbie’s drugs are his best friend
It’s hard to watch the scrawny boy

Geoffrey K. withholds a lot
The busy cell phone his pride and joy

Rob was forty-eight and stout
His sole desire was to submit

James B.’s eccentric and not shy
Damn that motormouth just won’t quit

David came from New Zealand
He’s absent now; he's Kevin’s ex

Erran was the hairstylist
Who said it was too late for sex

Garret is the closet case
Whom no one’s asked to come out yet

James E. insists that he is free
Of guilt, of spite, and of regret

To guard his secrets, the blue-eyed man
Between “William” and “Billy” erects a wall

Kevin manages a plushy bar
My longtime friend, he flirts with all

John’s friend Geoffrey equaled Jm J B.
Few have dealt with such a queen

Dominic from Boston bartends too,
A trendier wop you’ve never seen

A drunken queen is Michael Fay
He quotes la Liz “What’s their name?!”

We let J. Simpson into our home
Our lives would never be the same

Mike B.’s New York I want to see
For Broadway scoop he’s who to know

Joe yearns to travel, to see some films
He’ll return one day to FESPACO

RJ is a burlesque emcee
His jokes offend, he’ll soon get wise

Keith plays the twink though 35
Since he can, are we surprised?

Claiming eight legs, Aaron used to jest,
Was what kept arachnophobia at bay

Tim’s Chinese doc said “Too much sex!”
Maybe celibate he’d learn crochet

Hunt’s my dad, he sports a growl
One cliché is true: he’s smarter now

Sean K. loves his Kimberly
Down south next fall they’ll take their vow

Dennis brings us Czech absinthe
On the Cure and that he loves to gorge

Between Negrophile and his other blog
My online reading is All About George

Sean M. finally knows some gays
At his naïve words I can only jeer

The sullen blond, Scott was my first,
My grief surprised when he died last year

Mike J.’s humor’s wry and dry
His eyebrow climbs that shiny dome

I haven’t seen Mike F. for years
If I saw him now I’d know I’m home

At seven years old I met Jeff V.
The Avengers, X-Men and Superman

It’s Chris’s nature to wheel and deal
Would you buy a hotel from this man?

Red wine and weed delight another guy
Add Deanna and stir to get Billy Ho

I first met Jase a starved, bleached punk
Matured with work and with ‘Teo

Jeff the Tin Man wears no mask
Never known a lawyer to be so frank

With Latin boys Jason danced all night
Think grooming products and a taste for crank

To maintain Alex’s nocturnal life
His new degree seems of little use

Jon S.’s manners were so rude
At his age upbringing’s no excuse

As Gatsby’s Ghost that Jeffrey writes
Of grad school, Buffy, and his Catch

Another John’s last name is Hill
This summer he’ll wed Matt, his match

Gregory has always liked it hot
Explains why he made Palm Springs his land

The opposite of his last name
Is flashy, friendly Mr. Bland

Casey I knew as a mad, fey Goth
Though married now, he still wears black

John M. and I had seven years
Of good times and bad there was no lack.

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