The club is darkened, infused
with the musty smell
of an old building.
A spotlight halos
the blonde-wigged queen,
who holds the mic
up to her magenta lips
and slinks out her song
in a contralto voice.  She sways
her blue sequined gown
into a shimmering prism.
The audience cheers
and whistles.  She’s
the favorite, so far.
Other contestants wait
in a room down the hall.
Wigs rest
on felt pedestals,
shaky hands apply
heavy makeup
onto closely shaven faces.
Defiance
on this day
is all the more sweet.

Step outside.

Sunshine and heat.
Crowds of people dressed
in red, white and blue
mill about Main Street
pushing strollers,
waving flags.  Dogs
sport red bandanas.
Food vendors peddle
barbeque ribs, brats,
beer, lemonade,
funnel cakes, shaved ice.
Uncle Sam, on stilts,
hawks balloons.
No one notices the bar,
much less guesses
its libertine bent.

On this Independence Day,
it’s just another
closed door.