night is yawning,
asking dawn to take over,
only i want to stay a little longer,
sitting outside beside you.
we're taking in the scene together
with backs up against a brick wall
our knees, thighs even arms touching.
the bass beat still pumps from inside,
our fingers strumming in perfect time
watching those ready to leave go home .
other same sex couples are embracing,
coming out onto the cooling street.
the boys are being funny bitching
by a group of glamour girls we know.
we're all laughing at their camp jokes.
out come the Drag Queens reaching
for their designer sunglasses, whipping
off their stilettos like weary models
while we find out if everyone had fun.
the sunrise is bouncing light yellow
off the warehouse's across the road.
we hear the Scene Queens talking softly
dissecting the best parts of the night,
while handsome androgynous girls
dressed in men's wear, soft butch style,
keep hoping to hold an interested stare.
nearly everyone is devouring a Hot Dog
or waiting in the queue by the food truck,
as satisfied hands rise to hail a taxi ride.
i adore this time outside gay clubs,
after being out all night partying
surrounded by the forged strong.
these gay people, my queer kind,
so, so many fought for kisses linger
like hard earned victory in the air.
lighting up my last Dunhill Blue
enjoying all of our silly banter
the dance music stops playing,
see, the bouncers are even going,
time to make a wonderful decision.
which other home should we drive to?
whose bed will be best for two?
asking dawn to take over,
only i want to stay a little longer,
sitting outside beside you.
we're taking in the scene together
with backs up against a brick wall
our knees, thighs even arms touching.
the bass beat still pumps from inside,
our fingers strumming in perfect time
watching those ready to leave go home .
other same sex couples are embracing,
coming out onto the cooling street.
the boys are being funny bitching
by a group of glamour girls we know.
we're all laughing at their camp jokes.
out come the Drag Queens reaching
for their designer sunglasses, whipping
off their stilettos like weary models
while we find out if everyone had fun.
the sunrise is bouncing light yellow
off the warehouse's across the road.
we hear the Scene Queens talking softly
dissecting the best parts of the night,
while handsome androgynous girls
dressed in men's wear, soft butch style,
keep hoping to hold an interested stare.
nearly everyone is devouring a Hot Dog
or waiting in the queue by the food truck,
as satisfied hands rise to hail a taxi ride.
i adore this time outside gay clubs,
after being out all night partying
surrounded by the forged strong.
these gay people, my queer kind,
so, so many fought for kisses linger
like hard earned victory in the air.
lighting up my last Dunhill Blue
enjoying all of our silly banter
the dance music stops playing,
see, the bouncers are even going,
time to make a wonderful decision.
which other home should we drive to?
whose bed will be best for two?
✱✱✱
| Cristina Munoz is a queer poet/writer from Australia. First published by Triple J at twenty she stopped submitting her work for over two decades. Since 2016 her poetry is appearing in 'Hellbent Magazine', 'Wanderlust Magazine' & she is a contributor at 'Spillwords' & 'HerHeartPoetry'. Her poetry is fuelled by music so along with working on her first poetry collection she manages SoundOfWomen.com |
