In the end I sat on your couch and said - Mariana Chajon Oliveros

In the end I sat on your couch and said

by Mariana Chajon Oliveros

I think it might have been the night I was wearing those blue track-pants the ones that screamed gay when you first looked at me with disgust

it might have been nice to be my brother then

will I spend a lifetime trying to break patterns I’m embarrassed by?

I feel a sense of bitterness particular to the oldest child of immigrants,

(an immigrant myself)

bitterness towards the world around me

it turns into jealousy after sundown

and pure, unbounded anger on full moons

I tried giving up

but I found it was still trying

and I’d like to keep you in my life

as a keepsake,

a souvenir,

(the kinds of trinkets that end up in a summer house)

un recuerdito,

a reminder

that I took up too much space

you think maybe one day I’ll understand you

I think maybe one day you’ll answer me

Why don’t you love me? Is it because I don’t have the same politics as you? Is it because I dress weird? Is it because I’m gay? Is it because you have to ask me to throw my tampons out outside? Is it because I remind you of your mom? Is it because I’m not a boy? You can look at me with contempt; you can push me away; you can dislike me, but you need to tell me why. You need to tell me why you don’t love me so that when you die I can live in peace. So that I can see meat sticks at the gas station and remember that was your favourite snack.