a poem a day for a year #139

by Amy Turn Sharp


I am reading short stories by Ellen Gilchrist
this is Friday
and I am not budgeting my checkbook very well
I have bought myself flowers
this is a typical day in a typical life
but shit
drag queens just got on the bus
Paris is burning
I wish I had eyelashes like her
sometimes I think I am starting to fall apart
age
wrinkle
buckle
I am superstitious as hell
I don't read funeral home signs
ever
just can't
I squint my eyes when I go past them
I hold my breath past the cemetery
even long ones
the drag queen winks at me
do I still look like fun?
or am I getting old?
I am surely dressed like a librarian today
I would like to get off this bus with the drag queens
and walk right up and kiss you
show you what this Friday is all about
and we would dance
and every little thing would be just fine
and the girls would stand on the corner
and hoot and holler into the evening
with their red lips and shiny clothes
for me
for me