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t-girl at the gay bar blues

sitting in the corner, nobody looks my way.

first time in this city & i don’t know any names.

i came out looking cute with my eyeliner on point;

in my pack of cigs i’ve stashed a finely rolled joint.

i came here with a friend who i thought would introduce me,

instead just left me planted here as if i was a fruit tree.

my colors are the brightest here but nobody can see ‘em.

the gay boys break my eye contact before i even meet ‘em.

not long ago they used to eye me; i’d be feeling seen.

now i see the shit they do that isn’t even “mean”:

just a flagrant disregard, or offhand comment on my look.

i could read this basic party like a children’s chapter book.

instead i chat with boys on grindr looking for my kind.

a bi boy who wont mind my scruff is what i hope to find.

it’s hard to not resent the gay boys with their matching chests.

i’ve crossed the line of femme for them and have not even breasts.

so i sit alone, smoke and try to catch my breath,

being a trans girl among fags: a little sip of death.

i know i’m not the only one that wants for space in here.

so many more fall in the gap between “gay man” and “queer.”

it’s on this edge i’m sipping, boots are bouncing to the beats.

i’m ‘bout to call a lyft so i can finally get my treats,

while i hang with my sis, who will appreciate these shoes;

’til then i‘m in the corner, with my t-girl at the gay bar blues.

 

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image via Getty

Tags: Art, Transgender
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