By Michael Montlack
chunky Tamika: Mocha of the light dark skin darker
than the neighbors' suburber Gerber kids
—white-listed black, she fired back
punk, ramming spikey head, thick wrist-
banded with the army brats and alternative closet queers
head-setting in the halls songs shouts screams, snarly Mocha
of the dirty sneakers, meaty thighs detention again
fussing so femme ( as if ) with her pink Mohawk
Mocha went, left
flew
now see her be so CBGB
weeknight headliner
torn fishnet, sloppy eyeliner—all girl ( not girlie ) band-
ed with the freaky, hippie, crusty
she finally screams aloud, douching front rows
plastic wand, plastic skirt
sprinkling this downtown lawn, un-landscaped
blades of tattooed arms hailing, flailing
drinking her water, holy or not
they thirst, they grow cleansed
green in the white stage lights
of shining black
Mocha
Haight Street shoe-shoppers don't see her
—no showstopper—in the harsh glare
where on the corner clutching purse: vintage lunchbox ( Darth Vader )
she bums cigarettes, quarters
kissing passing friends—with cheek ( cold sore )
Mocha so thin, so light, but leaving next Thursday night
rehab, government sponsored don't tell my parents
the friends passing promise
stunned by her pressing bones, loose plastic skirt
that beat-up metal lunchbox
collecting strangers' coins
for nothing at all to swallow
Michael Montlack is the editor of the essay anthology My Diva: 65 Gay Men on the Women Who Inspire Them ( University of Wisconsin Press, 2009 ) and the author of three poetry chapbooks: Cover Charge ( Winner of the 2007 Gertrude Prize ) ; Girls, Girls, Girls ( Pudding House, 2008 ) ; and The Slip ( Poets Wear Prada, 2009 ) .