In Chicago, Illinois,
I went to Home Depot
to buy underlayment nails,
a reciprocating saw and wrenchette
in the wide cemented aisles.
It was summer. It got hot
muggy. The hardware aisle
was full of hmm...women
t-shirts and shorts
flip-flops and How-To books
Karen (so said her arm tattoo) was bent over
she seemed very nice
while I shopped and selected
a familiar nail organizer.
(I peeked) and carefully
studied her body.
Her cleavage a pool of invite
round, yet oh so firm
they spilled over
in moans of names
Sarandon and Jolie
dressed in torn jeans,
cowboy boots, and tight tees.
A lover slung on a carved table
"You were the one, the only one."
Breasts with eager nipples
bound up and big with lace.
Soft, firm women with busts
bound round and rounder with underwire
like Love Birds begging to be decaged
Her breasts were transmogrifying
I was not browsing lifestyles, though
I was too shy to stoop.
And then I looked at her ass:
OH MY GAWD!
Suddenly, I respected
what I'd ignored forty years
-Kim's screams-
coming loud and long
I didn't want to deny anymore
when she received what I am:
a breast, ass, and clit woman.
I might have been scared,
but wasn't. What took my
crotch by surprise
was realizing I am The Gay:
My wet, in my panties.
Without wearing a mullet
I was a toolish dyke.
I-we-were cruising, cruising,
our eyes glued to the asses
of lonely Do-It-Yourselfers.
June, 2001.
I said to myself: soon
and you'll be Pride marching.
I was saying it to jumpstart
the courage of stepping off
the hetero, tacky world
into cramped, two-step bars.
But I knew: you are a gay
you are a Christy,
you are one of them.
But how could I be one of them?
I slowly allowed myself to feel
to know what it was I was.
I looked at Karen's ass
-I couldn't stare for much longer-
at her curvy frame
demin shorts, wifebeater and boots
and powerful pair of pornhands
fingering the concrete screws
I knew that (at that moment) everything was
falling into place, that everything
fell into place.
Why should I be Christy,
or Martina, or any gay?
What similarities?
Work boots, pornhands, lipstick
kept in a cargo pant pocket,
"We are family", or even
On Our Backs
and fabulous fistfucks
made us all family
or made us all just one?
How blind, closed I was
to this lifestyle, no this life.
I had turned completely around
like them, and responded to
a desire a cry within me
become more undeniable and true.
The hardware aisle was illuminated
with lights. My unexplored runway
to a welcoming community
of women, yes of women.
I was re-introduced to myself
A life begun again. Outside,
in Chicago, Illinois,
lay a new world to conquer
and today was Pride Day
of June, 2001.