IF MCDONALD’S WAS A SHRINE
BY LATIFA SEKARINI

girls with friendship bracelets made of candy,
stumbling onto sun-soaked streets.
friendship bracelets don’t break overnight
but candy rots like everything else

best friends don’t break overnight,
so how come i can’t remember 
the last time you sent me birthday cards
instead of god’s word?
you tell me you’re homophobic and proud,
and i don’t have the heart to forgive,
but i think god does. 
i did everything by your book. 
the book said, lay your feelings out
like cutlery on the table
but i always ate takeout with bare hands.

i’m walking out with broken candy in one hand,
and everything i believed in the other,
because maybe i was never a good friend,
but i like to think i was a good lesbian.
good lesbians don’t kiss their friends,
and good lesbians don’t sleep with their friends. 
the book said, you don’t have to beg 
to breathe same air as everyone else,
but do it if it helps.

in my dreams, i am at the supermarket
picking up pineapples,
while you’re mulling over 
supermarket brand shampoo.
my words are unrehearsed
but it’s been a year,
and i’ve stopped doing things by the book,
because i wasn’t meant to be a good lesbian,
and you were never a good friend. 
but just so you know
if mcdonald’s was a shrine, 
i’d meet you there again.