WE EAT BROOKLYN by travis tate
WE EAT BROOKLYN
Diego eats the nachos. We wander around Bushwick
from bar to bar, like mystics on a journey for some
divinity. I eat the fries. We drink shots of tequila,
beer to offset the sting of wanting to drown a thing.
The soft sun is baking the cement, is licking the
fire hydrant burst open, dancing on the sidewalk.
I lift my veil. We say to each other small prayers
about what the world has done to our brown &
black skin. I tip the bartender. We move bars,
we move the bar, the bar is around us. The people,
their petty talking, their constant laughing,
the smoke pushing way through the backdoor.
I am walking home, smiling at Diego, who
takes a moment to make a joke about my teeth.
Both of us looking at the photobooth pictures of us.
We eat our last meal in Brooklyn before we even know it.
travis tate is a queer, black playwright, poet and performer from Austin, Texas. Their poetry has appeared in Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Underblong, Mr. Ma’am, apt, and Cosmonaut Avenue among other journals. Maiden, their debut poetry collection, is out on V.A. Press. They earned an MFA from the Michener Center for Writers. You can find more about them at travisltate.com.