A Gay Pride parade passes by.
A bunch of ordinary looking guys and women
and then a cross-dresser in a purple hugging skirt
With flashing sequins.
Some hold banners.
Others are just glad to know
they’re not the only ones
with hormones tilted the other way.
It makes me wonder
what I am proud about
to warrant taking to the streets
and wave a sign in everybody’s faces.
My hyper-active Vagus nerve?
My love of EC comics artists from the early 50’s?
Certainly not my sex-life.
If Hetero Pride has a ring to it
it’s the one my wife wears on her finger.
This is just another parade
that passes me by,
evoking a smile, some empathy,
even a little sympathy,
but nothing to inspire me to march.
Oddball and unique as people tell me I am,
I’m still part of the majority.
Our parade is really the one
where we watch parades.
It doesn’t count for much
but it’s how we stand together.