The Trannie Swim Team

In this town all the fortune cookies end in “with a trannie”;
You left to go back to Seattle this morning,
Your boots and gamba by the doorstep,
A pile of hats like a stacked melton cake,
Backpacks and suitcases in disarray.
I miss you already.

I find your black checked scarf on the coat-hook,
A blue wool shirt folded on the dining chair ready to be mended,
Your metal water bottle on the kitchen counter next to the red tea,
Your new bus pass on the dresser next to my IMsL pass.
You left reminders in each room.

We’re swimming underwater to Martha And The Muffins,
The trannie synchronized team with cigars floating above the waves,
Smoke twirling hand in hand with the night fog,
And my long thin limbs twining with your thick hairy legs,
We float like curling unfurling seaweed in these warm waters.

Fortune cookies keep us fed,
Crumbs floating like tiny canoes on the waves,
Fortunes surrounding us;
You will be happy. With a trannie.
A business proposition will end well. With a trannie.
Your loyalties are clear when it comes to friends. With a trannie.
An unexpected event will soon make your life more exciting. With a trannie.
The stars shine like oysters. With a trannie.

About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a queer butch San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran.
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