Thursday, June 30, 2016

(It sounds like his throat)

It sounds like his throat
is filled with gravy.
Instinctively, I coughed in sympathy.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

(He filled the foyer)

He filled the foyer
with a fart and turned his back
to me and his funk.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

(It took me 12 years)

It took me 12 years
to realize that he has
a stutter.  Stunner!

Monday, June 27, 2016

(It sounds like he has)

It sounds like he has
gravy in his throat, like a goat
swimming in a moat.

Monday, June 20, 2016

Happy first day of summer!


Seasonal Criminals

There's something about
summertime sandals --
they're too much
to handle
when it comes to
the stench that
sweaty feet and
leather create.
My nostrils don't
celebrate or salivate about
the smell that emanates
from the partnership
that perpetrates
heinous crimes
against olfactory.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Happy Father's Day!


Presents from Dad

He was so excited to bring "surprises"
home to us, whether it was a $5 movie
from McDonald's, Sam's Club chocolate
chip cookies, or a two liter of Dr. Pepper.
My sisters and I would laugh at him
and try to downplay his "treats," but it
was his simple, silly, contagious joy
that made the best gift of all.

Monday, June 13, 2016

In Light of the Orlando Massacre


Note: "Muslim" or any other religious term may be substituted for "Christian" and "Christ-like" hereunder; the same sentiments would apply.

A Letter to the Predator

Dear straight Christian friend,

When you post a picture of
a burning gay pride flag online,
I am not merely encountering
an expression of an opinion.
I don't simply see a person
making a statement
about an issue.
I don't view it as
an individual "deeply devoted
to a faith based on mercy and grace"
taking a stand amidst a culture war.

I see my friend
advocating -- and perpetrating --
violence against me.
I feel threatened
and frightened
and sickened.
I see -- with my own eyes --
my friend proclaiming
to me and the world
that I am worthy of abuse.
I witness my friend
declaring me fit for
gasoline
and matches
and burning flesh
and torture
and death.

I see that my friend --
my "loving, compassionate, Christ-like" friend --
is not, in fact, my friend at all.

-- Your gay neighbor