？t know。？ Dan stuck the unlit cigarette into the corner of his mouth and patted his pockets
miserably。 ？I can？t find my lighter。？ He sounded almost on the verge of tears。
？Your lighter？？ It didn？t sound like that was his only problem。 Poor Dan； sometimes he took
imitating Keats a little too much to heart。
？It doesn？t matter。？ Dan removed the cigarette from his mouth and tucked it behind his ear；
where a mass of his slick； dirty hair kept it in place。 ？I？m going to make some coffee。You want
some？？
Really； all she wanted to do was collapse into bed； possibly with Dan； but he was acting entirely
bizarre。 Plus he smelled weird。
？Coffee sounds good。？ Vanessa placed her arm gently around Dan？s shoulders； as though he was
a delicate waif in need of forting。 She led him down the brown…rice…colored hallway toward
the kitchen。 ？MaybeI？ll make it； and you can just sit and tell me why you？re such a mess。？
Dan shuffled down the hallway after her but hadn？t even made it to the kitchen before the words
exploded out of him。 ？I let this dude I met at the Strand kiss me。We started a salon together。 I？m
gay。 My dad said he did some gay stuff when he was hanging out with poets back in the day； but
me？I？m really gay。？
Vanessa brushed past him and into the kitchen。 She unscrewed the lid on the mercial…size jar
of Folgers crystals on the counter。 Dan sat down at the worn Formica table and sank his head in
his hands。
？What do you mean you ？started a salon？？？ she demanded； totally ignoring the gay part of the
equation。 ？You？re Mr。 Never Get a Real Haircut。What do you know about salons？？
Dan had to smile。 ？No； a literary salon。 Asa lon；？ he repeated w