One of the Boys

 Some things you'll never understand:
 How to fill a suit, drown
 doubt with your voice, shrug
 off that hostile curiosity.

 From your seat in the middle,
 their spot behind the tall lectern:
 Would they notice
 how pretty
 how unafraid
 you could speak of love?

 Would you be allowed
 to join their serious games,
 show them how expertly
 you'd waste their time if only,
 if only they let you play?

 But some nights
 (sultry breeze and soft asphalt,
 the beer cans' sweat dripping from your palms)
 none of that matters.