san diego
wind tickling the palm trees
the air tinged with sea salt
warm and gentle
clear skies
days spent lounging outside
cruising around in the ‘98 Buick
mindlessly poking around at record stores and antique malls
without a care in the world
but where i’m staying
the gin and tonics flow ceaselessly
everyone is drunk, messy, high, barking
mouths foaming like rabid dogs
the proximity making them insane
thunderous laughter closely followed by yelling and fighting and slamming doors
peace rarely exists here
everyone asking me “why”s—
why do you do that to your face
where’s your boyfriend
are you gonna go back to college and get a real job?
don’t spend your afternoon in hillcrest
stay here with us
and watch us drink and play pooch
we hate your queerness
and beyond the thin, fragile cloak of family appearances would be glad to see you dead
our love for you is a performance
but we can pretend you’re a woman for a few hours!
we can pretend you’ll go home and decide to be normal!
don’t you love your family?
i try to measure my time
as little as possible
and go explore instead
i hate that they are surrounded by beauty
but choose to wallow in hate instead