Men I’ve Dated in Random Order

Nancy A. Henry

He’s going on about dry fittings again and I’m nodding.

He’s going on about Led Zeppelin and Meatloaf

and Fenders and Stratocasters and Martins

and amps and boosters and his band and his

gigs and the tightass lead vocalist who won’t

let him sing on the J. Geils covers

especially Centerfold where he sounds

just like Peter Wolf


I’m nodding.


He’s going on about

fresh salmon with bernaise sauce

and garnishes and the class on making

exquisite garnishes and the sixteen

special knives he has for cutting radishes

and kohlrabi into garnishes,

into every kind of flower you’ve ever seen

and about how bottle green is so different

in effect from colonial green when you’re talking

upholstery and I’m figuring out he’s definitely gay

and I’m nodding


He’s going on and on and on crappie

and bluegills and perch and pickerel

and big and smallmouth bass and their 

sperm and their row and their beds and their

fingerlings and spinners and bobbers and

fucking speckled rubber crawfish and 

I’m nodding.