wondering what the point is if nobody bothers to think that i'm an actual person.
i cringe as i step on the bus,
but i hold my head high.
buttons of LGTBQ+ support,
Edward Scissorhands ripped t-shirt,
layer of purple plaid,
it's pretty damn obvious i'm not a
good little cishet girl.
the elderly man closest to me shifts over,
and i remember i'm not in my safe neighbourhood,
not in the gay district.
i don't know how to act here.
usually this dim, dark city is at least somewhat safe,
but it does not stop me from fearing so much.
i am on this bus
to try and convince a forlorn friend
to go back to high school.
she has not gone to her classes for two months.
i don't know how to do this,
but i'm damn well going to try.
we might not have a perfect education system,
but it's better than nothing.
she does not respond to that when i say it.
these people do not know that.
they do not know that i walk
with the sole pursuit of goodness right now.
all they see is my sexuality,
because i push it in their faces
because nobody else will.
if they cannot display their secrets,
i will do it for them so that they
know it is just a little more safe.
i did not leave my house like this,
instead yelling that i've left, climbing into the bathroom through the window,
changing and then climbing back out.
a coward move? maybe.
but i don't really feel all that brave
these thin days.
when i get there, stepping off the bus,
i see two old women holding hands on a park bench.
a wedding ring glints on their matching fingers.
i decide i don't care what the bus-people think.
they can go fuck themselves.
i hope my friend goes back to school.