Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Employment is Relative & February 13, 2016

Employment Is Relative

I discovered true happiness
When I was unemployed.
I always worried about money,
About food,
About bills,
But not much else.
It was almost freedom.

I spent my time
Bouncing between libraries,
Coffee shops,
Or quiet outdoor patios.
I would write.
I would read.
I would revise and rewrite.

Living the dream.

I always felt
Everything happened for a reason.
It was a rough patch,
This unemployment.
It lasted
Too long
For my comfort.

It was necessary – 

I had to
Live my passion,
If only for a moment.
I glimpsed at my future.
My beautiful future.
A homeless
Starving
Writer.

What a dream I have
For myself.
I’ll fill it with
Rejection letters,
Unfinished stories
And drafts,
Lists of ideas
For stories and poems,
And the thoughts
Of a lunatic mind
With no hope
Of recovery
Or redemption.

Such is the life of
A writer.

There’s never enough paper
For the whirlwind of thoughts
The mind endures.

Too many thoughts
Forgotten.
Never enough time to write them
Unless
You’re unemployed.

February 13, 2016

They told me
There was a problem
On the dancefloor.
I saw nothing.
I knew nothing.
A regular customer
Pointed at someone.
I asked to talk outside.
He said, “No!”
He argued with me.
He wanted to fight.
I asked his friends
To get him outside.
They argued with me.
If I forced him out,
This would become a brawl.
Someone got in his face.
I told them to back off.
The guy and his friends left.
I took the person who
Got in the guy’s face
To the back gate.
Their behavior was the problem.
They called me Transphobic,
And said there was a hate crime.
I told them to call the police.
The next day, they boycotted the bar.
They said I kicked them out,
But listened to the
Douchebag straight guy’s story.
They said our bar and 
The macho security
Hated trans people.
They never spoke to
Us or came back.
They don’t know
The douchebag straight guy
Tried to fight me.
He never came back.
Trans people still go to that bar.

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Poetry Monday: Bouncer at a Gay Bar

I watched the back gate
Checking IDs
Watching for people
Who drank too much
This guy walked up to me

“So, you’re like
The backdoor bouncer, heh heh”

I stared at him

“Get it? Cuz it’s a gay bar
Backdoor, heh heh”

I stared at him

“Cool, I’m gonna go”
“That’s a good idea”

Another night
Watching the front door
Checking IDs
Watching for drunks
A woman tries to open the door
She knocks on the window

“Are you open”

I make a gesture
For her to pull the door
She looks at a friend

“I don’t think they’re open”

I walk over and push
With one finger on the window
And walk outside

“The handle stays locked
You just have to pull”

“But when you open a door
You turn the handle”

“And you pull”

“Oh, well I guess
I forgot that part”

Some people are stupid
Before the alcohol

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.