a tranny walks into a bar

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Mica Woods

 
 

this is the order of things:

 

she sits down in front of a TV screen.

the bartender Steve asks for her ID.

she reaches into her wallet and holds

out what she thinks is her card.

 

the banana slug in her hand doesn’t feel like a card.

it was where the license should have been.

she holds her pulsing yellow slug out like this,

across the bar next to the taps, mucus dripping,

 

for some time, she doesn’t know how long,

before the bartender comes back.

You can’t bring pet slugs in this bar

he says Take it outside. she walks

 

outside the bar. she pours salt

down her throat.