  gars endommag(damaged boys) fifteen shoot the boulevard Braden returned from Charleston with a mild sunburn and a quiet understanding about love. For once, it finally made sense. His brief encounter with Thomas made him think differently and feel differently. It was nothing like the endless parade of twinks and club boys in and out of his condo. Hed thought love was sentimental and ridiculous and unattainable. But, then there was Thomas, perfect and lovely in every way. Braden was home, but part of him remained in Charlestonalong the lush green avenues and strident blue-gray harbor. Thomas had surprised him. He was drawn to his silky Southern charms and his impeccably white teeth. He liked the way he tasted when they kissed. His lips like gorgeous fruit, perfect and sweet. Braden drove along the boulevard through the trendy neighborhood full of gay boys and purebred dogs and Glam-rock boutiques. Here, there was no class. Just daily living. Probably exotic and progressive to those dim rural fags who got excited at the sight of an Olive Garden.
But, to Braden, he might have just as well passed it by. Hed traveled the boulevard at least once every day for the past six years, since moving into the city and starting his new life, since Alan died. No, he wasnt going to allow that memory here. Nohe would think only of Thomas now. There would be no thoughts of dead lovers and suicide and drugs.
That was too messy. Death left a traila horrible, disgusting, sickening trail of loose ends and scraps. That was Alan. That was a mess hed long ago reorganized, and filed far, far away. No, Thomas was clean and neat and tanned. He wore crisp clothes in the colors of clay and azure and russet. He flossed. He could fit neatly into Bradens life if only he wasnt 1500 miles away, or off on a boat somewhere.
The boulevard swept through the city like a long ribbon, curling through neighborhoods. Past apartments and homes, past businesses and coffee shops and car washes, it went everywhere and nowhereit disappeared on both endsone onto the shoreway along the lake, and the other dissipated into an old residential neighborhood with dead-ends and one-way streets. He passed the Diner where all the trendy boys and their entourages gathered on weekend mornings to rehash and relive their nocturnal exploits over cups of strong coffee and fruit salad. For all the fuss that was made over getting ready to go out, Braden wondered why so many of them didnt seem to mind being seen in broad daylight, unbathed.
They smelled of smoky clubs. Their hair covered by baseball caps and do-rags. Some arrived with pillow creases still visible on their cheeks. It was exactly the kind of place Braden would never go for fear of running into someone, anyone. And it all suddenly felt so small. Braden needed out. Bradens mind wandered back to Thomas, and the memory of him sitting shirtless on deck in the morning sunlight. His gorgeous skin soaked in rays of white-hot light, his sandy brown chest chair and the dark trail from his navel, which disappeared below the towel wrapped around his waist.
The vision of it blazed until it was burned and indelible. But, here was his reality. Here there was no Thomas and no fantasy life on a boat. Here there were messes and disasters and unpleasantness. And he would, eventually, date all of them. 
