Twas the night before New Years

The following piece was presented at Jersey City Writers’ genre event – Recess: Children Stories for Adults. Please enjoy.


‘Twas the night before New Years, and all through the city,
Young babes, broads, and bitches were dressed very pretty;

In stockings, high heels, and the shortest of skirts,
They topped off their outfits with low-cut sheer shirts;

I now must confess, I was one of those chicks,
But that’s what occurs when you start missing dicks;

My sequined red dress barely reached to mid-thigh;
Long enough for my mom, short enough for a guy;

However my mom can no longer critique,
Or tell me I’m ugly or look like a freak;

She never acknowledged who I had become;
She said as she died, “You forget where you’re from;”

But oh I remember, my mommy, my dear,
Those whispers, those glares—their intent was quite clear;

The first time I dabbed on eye shadow and blush,
In my room, at my mirror, I felt such a rush;

But then on the street, in the mall, at my school,
The neighbors would snarl, “You look like a fool,”

Which is why I moved out once I turned eighteen years;
I’d had quite enough of their whistles and jeers;

So back to that night, before twenty-eleven,
I felt almost high, I was nearly in heaven;

I breezed past the bouncer—no cover for me;
(The men have to pay, but the girls get in free!)

The dudes were lined up, streaming in through the door,
Some in tanks, some in ties, but who cares what they wore;

At the bar I selected a rum for my Coke;
While I took in eye candy and looked for a bloke;

As more men arrived, my chances were good,
That I’d find a brave man who would give me his wood;

Now I’d had little training to snag such a dude;
My old family and friends always said it was crude;

But with practice I’d learned to start swaying my hips,
To talk extra breathy and part my plump lips;

I got the implants—they looked good with the dress,
And my legs in high heels were prepared to impress;

But the face was the thing; even though clubs are dark,
My masculine jaw could come through a bit stark;

So to ladies who claim they need paint and perfume?
Well I need it more since I once was a dude.


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