first night.
it was hir first night as a boy
stiff new leather shoes creaked
suit just out of the bag
soft wool with shiny liner
tie knot that ze’d practiced so hard
now crafted on fine silk
starched collar stood tall
grandpa’s cuff links shiny in ze’s cuffs
hir steps changed gained confidence
shoulders grew straighter
walked into a lesbian bar to find a woman
woman’s features in disguise
curves bound into flatness
the lines of gender redefined
invited by an older woman to slip in early on a vip pass
ze sipped scotch on the rocks
tried to escape the new benefactor
find hir type without being sure of specifics
searched for a vague idea
that whispered foreign tongues in bed
dark shadows and curves
soft hands not found there
because you can’t make wives from american women
they are crazy and fun for a night
but not the kind that ze runs to
and ze can’t hide from the world in their arms
they are too wild to feel safe
so ze keeps on searching
love affair with the iron.
his outfit had a love affair with the iron
perfect starched collar
knife-edged creased pants
full moon reflected in the spit shined shoes
and the rain puddles alike
cashmere soft with mist
whistling as shoes clicked down the slick pavement
cashmere in a puddle on the floor
and a sock sticking out from under the bed
hair sticking out in every direction
forehead beaded with sweat
concentrating so hard
white wife beater stained with sweat
sensitive stomach exposed
i love that when i unwrap you
i see what nobody else sees
literally
i slip the sports bra over your head
a size too tight
so that it flattens your already tiny chest
and the dusky pebbles of your nipples
pero no me importa
el cuerpo es tuyo y para mi es hermoso
indiferente de tu género
¡ay! me encanta pero se me perdió
tu voz cuando me preguntas “¿que piensas?”
porque yo
yo no puedo pensar cuando estoy contigo
madame fortune teller.
i’m next door to the oldest 18 and over club in weho
when they get there early
they stop at starbucks to caffeinate then come to see me
i’ve sat here for many years
in the bright color-blind mumu everyone expects
tired old queen in worn out drag
madame fortune teller advising the lost boys
my smudged crystal ball
has seen waterfalls of tears
cascade down young dimpled cheeks
the boys that file past have aged
replaced by fresh faces
sometimes i see them in the early morning
huddled in my doorway next to the payphone
still too drunk to drive when i get to work
when i still look like a worn out old man
with a steaming cup of coffee
when i still have to pop my pills
although they are fewer
now that azt has gone out of style
i survived the first time we had to fight
the virus that threatened to wipe us out
and now i see naïve boys
doomed to repeat our stupid mistakes
asking when they will find true love
i sigh and push the bowl of condoms toward them
start to respect youself sugar
learn who you are
and then start looking
boy in the mirror.
i stare in the mirror don’t know the person looking back at me
the boy in the mirror is slight
with small shoulders and a hairless face
but its still a him i expect to see a girl
the first day of kindergarten
the boys and girl stood in two lines
i stood with my new friend who wore sparkle nail polish
after that the teacher made me sit in the corner and play with trucks
in sixth grade i cried after my best friend’s mom explained
why i couldn’t go to the all girls sleep over party
she said that people were a little closed minded
and would talk
my dad took off his belt
the first time he saw me put on my mom’s lipstick
he told me he wouldn’t have a sissy faggot for a son
he hit me till there was blood on my back i still have the scars
at night in my dreams i am her beautiful
my hair is long and my hands soft graceful poised
the ugly duckling transitioned into a swan i turn heads
draw sighs with latina curves that make music videos famous
i can only stall so long my boyfriend wants to sleep with me
he’s waited almost three months now
he’s starting to suspect something isn’t quite right
even if he’s a little simple but really what is the t
the pills don’t work as well shots scare me
surgery is expensive some days i can’t even afford to eat
i can get away with wearing a dress
as long as its dark outside nobody can clock me
survived by the mountains.
i grew up near mountains
and i can see mountains from outside the clubs
as i wait for the bus on my way to work
it was always comforting
knowing there was something bigger than me
here in the city there are plenty of things bigger than me
looming in my peripheral vision
people make jokes about corn fed blue eyed midwestern blonds
i ignore them because i am from the north
where there are sunsets with no haze
no out gay people in my tiny town
and no talk of the threat of disease
i came out west to come out
not just to get out
the sun surf sand have been good to me
people whisper under their breath about nordic gods
all i feel is hardened like i have aged decades
from worrying about rent and the threat of aids
everything here is larger than life
the scene the city the stars
i like to know the mountains are bigger
they’ve been here a long time
and even after i am gone
they will survive
unidentified white male early twenties
died of apparent drug overdose
traces of rohypnol cocaine and arsenic were found in his blood
evidence of recent sexual activity but no evidence of assault
however this may be attributed to the drugs found in his system
he is survived by the mountains
"Jess Provencio lives in Los Angeles with her wife, four cats, three tarantulas, and fish. She is a supervisor at a coffee shop and a substitute English teacher. Her goal is to get tattoos in as many languages as possible..."
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