last year at pride

by mickharris

a tongue clicking 

is a beginning of

warm curls in my belly.

slick against the roof of her mouth

and she cocks her head,

moves the muscle toward her teeth

seals lips

and waits for me to answer


i keep my hands to myself, 


putting them above my head

or flattening fingers against the sides of my body

when i dance

unwilling to even 


that i touch someone

who doesn’t want me to


touching her feels like,



i wanted.

holding hands over spicy tacos outside a club at pride,

last year,

pretending to inhale the cigarette she hands me

in front of her friends.

this is everything.


i feel too big when i kiss her

too fleshy and real


like dough.

too excited that at last i’m real

a real queer

for everyone to see.


like i have to prove it

(i do, constantly, it drives me in everything)

like i don’t deserve it

(i don’t, just a pair of eyes out of a skull with a body attached, how is that attractive to anyone?)

like it won’t last

(it doesn’t)