All the billowy fabric & lush Mellon Collie stars,
all the invocation of Infinite Sadness & Victorian lullaby
can’t cover my love
of Garbage.
I am twelve & small & so trying to survive
in this band-T at least three sizes too large for my body.
I had purchased this shirt at my first concert:
The Smashing Pumpkins tour
(chaperoned by my father, naturally).
I am twelve & only attending to hear Shirley Manson croon
Queer & Stupid Girl during the opener.
It’s as if she sings directly to me,
cuz I too am only happy when it rains
(especially over early second period P.E.)
I am only twelve, but I feel a lot,
& so don’t want anyone to see inside my jewel
case, to know that underneath’s a subpar supervixen,
a weird mix of naivety & bright pink feather boa
that is my brain.
It’s why to school I only wear this one blue
shirt, the one deemed “more acceptable for boys.”
I may be twelve, but I’m becoming more. Inside
I’m brewing fuchsia storms, unconcealed
horizons as distant & hopeful as heaven is wide.
Adrian Dallas Frandle (he/they) is a queer fish who writes to and for the world about its future. Book of Extraction: Poems with Teeth out now with Kith Books. Recent work in Hooligan Magazine and Honey Literary. Read more online at adriandallas.com