There they stood….darkened…downstairs…standing by two-holed booths: ONE PERSON PER BOOTH….NY STATE LAW…NO TALKING IN LINE….. whispers

Pot-bellied tight tee-shirts worn by old fractured failings in the worlds of romance……Never-ending trysts with lads off the buses….found pissing at The Port Authority….payments for services rendered….

Either go to a booth or leave, the Punjab declares, This is not free show….

Noises of fucking…..sucking…and Bollywood musicals play deep into the mornings after midnights each and everyday with a thirty minute cleansing of the seeds from man….

No-one stands love struck….nor wanted….only wanting….waiting for youth in a tight pair of pants to dance his way back in time when they too were sought…

Look boys….Here he comes now…