Poem of Queer Joys

Walking around the lake in the mornings with my roommates, watching the world wake up. Going to a queer gym for the first time and learning to train based on my body, not my sex. Seeing an older lesbian couple holding hands at the grocery store. Seeing older gay men dancing together at Queer Line Dancing. Stopping at the park with friends, and putting down our blankets so the edges touch. My lover helping me recover after top surgery. Taking off my shirt at the beach for the first time. Cooking a three course meal for all my friends to celebrate a birthday or a new job or just the joy of being. Driving them all home after, hours later, so they don't need to worry about the trains or Ubers. Working at the same summer camp I went to as a kid and seeing the thirteen year olds showing up on the first day with their pride flags and marveling at how much has changed in so little time. Ellis taking me to the mall, a month before I came out, and buying me my first set of men’s clothing. Reading Stone Butch Blues and not feeling so alone. Reading Fun Home and not feeling so alone. Sitting with friends who know what it means to be gay and queer and happy and not feeling so alone. Waking up next to my lover and not having to rush anywhere. Taking my shot of testosterone and knowing that the hurt of the needle has a purpose. Getting complimented by another queer person in public. Getting tattooed by another queer person. Cutting all my hair off in a North Carolina bathroom. Watching it grow out again. Becoming comfortable in masculinity; rechoosing aspects of femininity. Going out to a dirty dive bar every Wednesday night to listen to dirty dive bar poetry and cheering for my favorite ones. Catching toads in the woods at night with Gracie. Letting them go. Learning a board game with my roommates. Singing Tracy Chapman on karaoke night. Writing gay poems. Telling gay stories. Having gay sex. Living! Living despite it all. Living. Living.