Faggot

I see them running 

for the tram,

satin frills and sweet cologne.

Let the pretty boys on,

with a reverential gaze

and a twitch of their crotch lip.

Close the doors on the fat girls,

with a hiss, and a giggle

and a mean scoff.

Queen’s wave

to the ugly slags

they left off.

I can’t help but laugh at the freedom

with which they operate in the world

despite their cruelty and their flagrant bullying,

of which, they have, probably, always been victim.

But even in the depths of their beastliness

there is a humour that clears them of the worst,

even if that is just because I am on their team.

Even if the fat girl can’t see it, left on the footpath

as they wave good bye and blow her kisses,

with a squeal and a flourish, as if to rub it in.