—GOT TOO MUCH BREAD, CAN’T STAND THE CRUST 

 

The Moon and Me

 

 

On the back road that night

I was indecent yet also incandescent 

the moon and me glowing cryptic 

with our separate shame

A truck flew by then screeched 

I should have run but 

one heel was broken and 

it was black out but for the moon 

and those headlights circling back on me 

It was the usual Fag Queer 

Cocksucker Buttfucker Slut 

sprayed like buckshot slick with spittle

The glare made them appear like Duchamp figures

staccato shadows bending gravity to their will

In brisk succession the punches landed until they didn’t

until the kicks came and the air left me

Hours later another truck another man 

another inspection another judgement

They beat you for dressing up like that?

My entire body shook an answer loose  

as I prepared for a final bludgeoning

Instead he lifted me off the ground 

fit me into the passenger seat

On the drive he said My son, he dressed too.

It was more’n he could carry. So, so he’s gone now.

I had him drop me two blocks from the trailer lot

I looked him straight in the eye and let him see the whole of me

I said Thank you. I said Goodbye.