by Kay Kassirer

We are all sitting around, well, nothing
This apartment is not furnished
Unless you count the constant bare feet on bare floors
The scattered ashtrays
And that one broken futon in the corner we use for work

It is a Tuesday afternoon
Or some other time of the week where most people are doing 9-5
So this is when we get to wind down
The men who boss us around are too busy with their bosses right now

We throw parties
They may not go til midnight
In fact we may all fall asleep by 3pm
So we can be up again by evening to go meet our clients

But that doesn’t stop our bare feet from turning this empty room into a dance floor
Or a sanctuary
Same thing

Until one of us has to turn it back into an office
Or a bedroom
Same thing

And I’m dancing alongside these beautiful bodies
When I realize we are the wrong crowd my parents warned me about falling into
We are those sluts who have taken advantage of this broken system
We are one of the biggest threats to the one percent
Call us recording devices hidden in plain sight
They do not see us as people
Just bodies they can use and talk at

And maybe that’s why there’s no furniture here
This apartment, it’s too full of secrets and stories and scandals
And I almost wrote shame but miraculously, there is no shame here
We leave it at the door with our high heels and fake names

In this home we are just a dozen queer broke dreamers
Passing joints around
Acceptance lingering in the smoke

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