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About New York City

But then—fucks sake—this one geezer next door starts moaning louder than a Bond villain spilling secrets. Pissed me right off! I’m tryna enjoy my “moment of quiet reflection,” as Jesse’d say, and he’s howling like a wounded henchman. Nearly leapt off the table, silenced him with a martini glass. Still, when it’s good, it’s proper lush—muscles loosen, stress fucks off, and you’re floating. “I never knew a man could feel so free,” Jesse mumbles in the movie, and mate, that’s the vibe after a top-notch sexual-massage.

Posh La Bella

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Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

Michael Teal Sr.