Club

Annette, here’s the prompt that prompted this poem.

From WRITE IT!

In "Ode to the Midwest," Kevin Young wrote, I want to be doused / in cheese // & fried. I want / to wander // the aisles, my heart's / supermarket stocked high // as cholesterol... I want to be // the only black person I know. Though the poem is playful, its last lines here reveal some real pain. Whether it was because of race, sexuality, gender, or some other characteristic, was there a time in which you found yourself the only one of your kind? Describe that place and experience in the most vivid detail you can recall.

Television was a two-headed beast. We couldn't agree
on who our customers were. We stood in clusters in the
four corners of a conference room, separated by experiment,
ostensibly an ice breaker. One group would rather be
homeless than pretend to be Black or female. Analysts
slouched like the moneyed and tried to explain the difference
between bull and bear markets. As if homelessness was a
choice or a deficit of will. Outside, the heat of the desert
steamed like a tongue. Inside, an antechamber coolness
breathed down my neck. My tablemates in their inky suits
thought privilege was a sign of character. The heavy chairs
snagged on the abstract misogyny of the wall-to-wall.
The glare of cufflinks gave me a headache. Never mind
the performative role play or the secret strip club handshake.