#Read a #Poem Friday #amreading

Dear GaybashersBY JILL MCDONOUGH
The night we got bashed we told Rusty howthey drove up, yelled QUEER, threw a hot dog, sped off.
Rusty: Now, is that gaybashing? Orare they just calling you queer? Good point.
Josey pitied the fools: who buys a perfectly good pack of wienersand drives around San Francisco chucking them at gays?
And who speeds off? Missing the point, the pleasure of the bash?Dear bashers, you should have seen the hot dog hit my neck,
the scarf Josey sewed from antique silk kimonos: so gay. Youmissed laughing at us, us confused, your raw hot dog on the ground.
Josey and Rusty and Bob make fun of the gaybashers, and Iwash my scarf in the sink. I use Woolite. We worry
about insurance, interest rates. Not hot dogs thrown from F-150s,homophobic freaks. After the bashing, we used the ATM
in the sex shop next to Annie's Social Club, smiled at the kindowner, his handlebar mustache. Astrud Gilberto sang tall and tan
and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema... and the dildosgleamed from the walls, a hundred cheerful colors. In San Francisco
it rains hot dogs, pity-the-fool. Ass-sized penguins, cock after cock inazure acrylic, butterscotch glass, anyone's flesh-tone, chrome.
Learn more about this amazing poet here.