Ana Božičević
Same Difference                     (page 2)

I say and write some strident things. The scenesters who loved the hip foreign poet lady see I’m too fucked up and fade. It makes me sad but I make new friends. I move to the province. What I hated about the animals, I guess, is how they are “encountered” just like Major Jackson says white poets write race. The white encounters the magical Other and is changed. Subaltern 101. This applies to gays as well. The gay as the spirit animal. It happens on Harriet and Bravo. Everyone loves a big queer. Haha! The magical fairy godparents sprinkle the all-spice of edge onto the scene. There is a kind of momentum queers generate where they set off this chain reaction of creation all over the community. Beautiful songs ring out of the ghetto. It’s beautiful to press against the skin-walls at night and feel their beat. Straight girls don’t mind if they do. They write the manifestos. And we’re all too cool to put a premium on suffering. Who’s gonna say: You, the future of poetry? Having ghost parents and a dick boyfriend isn’t nearly enough. You can’t just say “I’ve always just been feminine” and just be a woman. And no, I don’t mean the kind of monster that’s still cute enough to do & can be killed by a squeeze cause it’s just soooo cute. What about the kind of monster no-one wants to fuck. I feel the need to rend myself to pieces. I can’t stand the thought of making out for the reader. I kissed a queer poetics and I liked it, I hope my boyfriend don’t mind it. No.

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