Uber for drag queens

Hey, babe,
you’re looking good.
What number
are you doing
at the Stud tonight?

It’s Oscar night.
I’m lip-syncing
to Meryl Streep
in “Mamma Mia”
singing “Winner Takes It All.”

I was a wreck
getting ready.

If you are putting on a face
for whatever reason –
drag queen,
burlesque dancer –
and you have to get to SoMa
for your show,
it’s a little iffy
to try to flag down a cab.

I kept running into drivers
who assume if you’re in drag,
you must be a prostitute.

The drag queens
of San Francisco
were our greatest advertising.
Pretty soon
every gay guy in town
was calling Homobiles
for a ride.
All kinds of butches
and femmes
and transmen
and transwomen –
every letter
in the alphabet soup.

They were so happy
and relieved
to have safe transportation.

We’re there
to get you where
you want to go
in a safe little portal
so you don’t have
to run a gauntlet
and defend yourself
from all kinds
of weird energy
and worse.

/ / /

This poem was found in response to Oulipo prompt 1, which I got from Margo Roby. My source was “Homobiles: When catching a ride can be such a drag”.

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