Anthony Dirk Ray

The Splash

late one night
outside a dingy bar
where my band played occasionally
and I was a bartender
part time

punk, metal, and
eclectic bands were featured
and vibes were usually laid-back

frat boys and trouble makers
would sometimes show up
to watch their friends play
get drunk and start shit

I stepped outside
a muggy summer breeze
making me instantly sticky

people were milling about as usual
laughing, talking, smoking, drinking
this bar was near the corner
of several gay bars so the gays
were milling about as well

one ignorant fuck in attire
more suited for a brunch date
starts talking loud about
“all these fags”
within earshot of a six foot four
black transvestite

the word ‘fag’
was not well received

the white boy was maced
blinded, pissed, embarrassed
his ego hurt more than his eyes

he attempted to fight
but to no avail
then chased and beaten
with six-inch stiletto heel

begging for mercy
but there was none to be had
just a bloody mess on Conti Street

he should have known better
because under that wig
that makeup, that dress,
there was still
a large black man
(fag or not)

an old-school hoopty
with windows rolled down
rode by playing
“More Than a Woman”



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