Sidewalk Sweeping

I never felt at home at Pride,

I never felt safe or sound,

I always felt afraid.

Jumbled up in the crowds and cacophony,

I buckled under the weight of the crowd,

That was supposed to love and represent me,

But the noise and the largess were too much for quiet little me.

So when the parade dies away and couples slink away,

When the parties and celebration are all put away,

And when the flags are put down to rise another day,

I step down from my perch on the far side of the town,

All the way down to the town's center lake where the parade once ran true.

There I walk on silent roads littered with colors and condoms,

pamphlets and purposes,

futures and food wrappers.

Of people much like me who had one moment to be free.

And though by function of my wiring, and my anxious soul,

I could not partake in the heavenly blasphemy of chosen family,

I can walk the sidewalks,

And sweep up all that I see,

So that I may pave the way for tomorrow's parade,

And give a clean slate for you and I - to continue the work forevermore.

For the lowly sidewalk sweepers who quietly tend the streets,

Who go unnoticed to less observant eyes,

Are just as important as the loudest queen,

And just as much chosen family.