In a strange city over coffee

I ask why we’re here.

My friend pulls a bible from her purse.

When I asked my question,

I just meant that CMA weekend is not

the best time for a trip

to Nashville.

I am warned of her fears

about my salvation.

I’m not in gods good graces.

I imagine hell is

a humid CMA weekend

in Nashville.

I imagine hell

is full of queer folks

forced to wear baggy gym shorts

and sweating in the summer heat.

It’s only slightly raining;

a drizzle, not a downpour.

We watch drag queens

mediocre performances

to Karaoke country music.

In hell they only play

the shitty country music.

Heaven has the rights

to the album with “Redneck Woman.”

Word is… God is not lending it out

anytime soon.

On an intercom we are told

a medium place has been made

as an exception for:

Lady Gaga, RuPaul, Elton John, and Ellen.

They will not be joining us.

I pray for my own salvation,

or at least gym shorts

that show off our

honkey tonk badonkey donks.