by Cal Lerchi
Do my shoes soak in Trans Magic
At the intersection of Turk + Taylor?
Spirits of queens, queers, outcasts
Throwing shit at pigs who try to police our joy
Try to extinguish our flames that burn together
More radiant than the sun
Does trans magic last?
When the building that used to nourish glorious queers
Is now owned by a massive for-profit corporation
And it is not a coincidence
That GEO Group also imprisons our kin
Along the U.S.-Mexico border
To steamroll over trans history—
Our transcestors
With this disgusting corporation—GEO Group …
Will we support this?
In this alleged city for queers?
Can we live up to the hype
Of the First city
To include a Transgender District?
If transcestors are our revered ones
If gathering publicly, despite danger
Is our form of worship …
If they attack our queer places of worship,
Clubs + bars + marches+
Compton’s Cafeteria,
Is the magic gone?
If I have any say
We are here to stay
No one can remove us
Despite gunshots or legislation or burning hate
We are love
We are a flame
We are magical
We demand the return
Of Compton’s Cafeteria to trans community.
Give us back Turk + Taylor
