windshield wipers
swipe the gentle drizzle
away from my sight
as i try to listen
and hear
and absorb
and accept
this love coming at me from the passenger side
but it’s hard when your own brain gives you ways
to always counter with absurd logic
anything better than
utter self-hatred
but i’m trying
i’m trying
i’m trying
here is pride
a thing i feel every now and then
and today, small town america
helped me feel
proud once again
what a bizarre happenstance
locking eyes
trans on trains
but it’s more than
‘i see you, you see me too’
it’s the
‘i might know you
from our silly rectangular social boxes’
and lo and behold,
check the algorithm —
there you are
and there i am, not so much sliding
but stumbling into your dms
saying, ‘let’s be friends’
[and blaming my spouse in the process]
and i’m too nervous about awkward connections
to check the reply
just yet
but i do know you have
replied
and i think that’s enough connection
for this socially anxious
ball of rainbows.
[but now the spouse wants to know…]
it’s always interesting to me
to see loud queers in the wild.
while it no longer feels as it did in the
early 2000’s—
where each tiny indication
screamed so loudly
but only we could hear;
where acknowledging each other
on the street
seemed a sacred secret
shared by head nods
and the rare smile
at even rarer held hands.
these days there seems to be
more queer
than not queer
(at least here, in nyc)
but there’s still a moment
for rainbow hair
and rainbow Keith Haring button-up
to share
mutual
queer
joy
from across a crowded 1 train
and be completely delighted
by each other
through eye-crinkling smiles
(the kind seen even behind masks)
and hands making heart-shapes,
asl thank you’s,
and waves goodbye.
and i think that’s
beautiful.
kipventures 