Mel Sherrer |
California Chicken Sandwich
My girlfriend and I
visited a queer bar, soon
after moving to Las Vegas.
It was midday and quiet
as a tea parlor, just a little close quarter
conversation and something sneaking
out of the jukebox, aglow with rainbow
neon lights.
No one’s eyes shifted around
like the doors might be kicked in
at any moment.
I said, “Oh, we’re not in Texas anymore.”
The bartender did not say “Ladies”
when they scooted us our drinks and food
only said, “Here you are.”
Yes
there we were.
What an ease there was about the room,
what a difference that little slice of avocado made.
Understanding Queer Love
I am simple.
How I love is simple.
I think anyone can understand it this way:
I get up first and wonder
what I might feed her when she wakes;
I make coffee for her cup.
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