The homophobe's eyes milk the television screen
That drones like an angered hornet
Flashing the colors of bright yellow, chartreuse, and magenta
And ebony leather pants on grinning gay men and
biker jackets on beautiful butch women
But he doesn't seem to think they are
Because all he can see is a contorted image
His TV screen isn't fuzzy at all, but all he sees is
And he howls in rage at the drag queens
Brave and gorgeous in their
Flashy wigs and winking high heeled shoes
Because if they weren't in this parade
He's afraid
He might see one or two at a bar and
wouldn't know they were 'faggots'
And he might try to pick one up
Brave and gorgeous
The signs confuse him:
He's had those forever
So to him
It doesn't matter
What they get
He doesn't know them
[Or doesn't seem to think so]
And he shuts off the TV in disgust, thinking
"Nobody in my family would act so god-damned
He doesn't know that if he would have kept his TV on
For one more split second
The next image would be his daughter
Smiling, waving, full of pride
Afraid what Dad might think at home
But for now, worry-free
Basking in a bold secrecy:
Beautiful butch woman.