Bob, a platinum blond
transsexual, works the
breakfast shift at an
Arby’s just off I-70.
After roast beef and
curly fries, my friends
and I, on a cross-Kansas
roadtrip, followed her out.
She eased, tight knees
into a white Sunfire
and flipped her long
hair as she checked
for oncoming traffic.
Her braceleted arm
jingled as she pressed
the gas and took
a sharp left onto
the icy highway,
And as we poured
back into our packed SUV,
I couldn’t help but
think how she was
both brave and defiant,
both dangerous and disruptive
both a hero and pariah to
our still-forming culture.
Bob, a strange little cup
of America, speeding down
the interstate, Stevie Nix
turned all the way up.
Matching her note for note.
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