How I learned to stop worrying and love being gay

Tara Rose

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is a tale penned on the city streets; euphemisms expire
along the Broadway show-strip with flash lights
and eager eyes; sequined dresses whip along my horizon.
She likes chorus girls and I like her best
when she's skirted around me. Children get
hot-hands on our lights and dip them in malteds
mothers use as cure-alls but they're best served 
when the theatre darkens, don’t you agree?

There’s something in the shadow dance
along the cups like a movie plays inside -- and we
share a malted, she and I; popcorn grease slides along our fingertips
without friction, with cohesion.
They serve me propaganda chocolate and I devour
nothing but her sweet jelly bean eyes.


Tara Rose is a contender for the MA in Creative Writing for her poetry at SFSU. She is a Taurus who likes long walks on the beach, internet cats, and cliches.


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