fag 2

“I stand before you, a single man, ready to work with you, ready to work for you.”

From the back of the hall some guy yells: “fag”.

I look down at my notes. Mind racing and then calm.

I look up at the front row.

Premier Getty looks embarrassed.

And it hits me like a tornado.

These are not my people.

I don’t want to be the Conservative MLA for Chinook.

My family looked uncomfortable. Grandma Simpson was smiling.

So I said it again:

“I stand before you, a single man, ready to work with you, ready to work for you.”

I paused and looked slowly over the packed room.

The TV cameras were rolling.

I thought: “Go ahead say it again.”

Nothing.

I finished my speech and finished dead last in the vote, of course.

A few weeks later a young rancher holding his toddler in his arms came into the butcher shop.

He wore a ball cap with the words: “AIDS Kills Fags Dead” made like the RAID insect repellent logo “RAID Kills Bugs Dead.”

Grinning and smug, he placed his order.

I served him.

I did not thank him.

This poem was published in:
Alberta Views magazine, October 2021
Montage Fragments zine, June 2023