Homecoming Queen’s Manifesto

by Jill Gagnon

Hey, you freckle-faced mother
With your blonde hair;
AFDC baby in a designer carriage
You roll down the street,
Name-brand cigarette
In your golden-ringed hand;
On your way to your appointment
For your piggy-back perm,
Courtesy of Uncle Sam,
That will turn the heads
Of virile, fourth-generation refugees
At the neighborhood pub,
Where you toss your upturned nose
High into the air,
Chasing your shot of Canadian Club
Down with a Silver Bullet,
While with a group of cheerleader cronies
You agonize over the world,
Which would be such a cool place
If it weren’t for the fags, lessies, and queers;
The weirdos that destroy the natural order
Intended by the God of High-School Proms;
The genie in the girl’s room mirror
Reflecting a guarantee to Revloned eyes
Peering through hair coiffed to studio gel restrictons
Of Delivery to the promised land,
Reserved for the chosen winner of the coveted corsage
Pinned on her silken formal outlining her nubile figure,
Showing a hint of budding cleavage
For him to gaze upon,
As she enters His rented chariot
That subtly smells of fresh pumpkin seeds,
Driving them away
To the Eternal Kingdom of the Homecoming Queen
Wherein reside the selected few
Of Darwin’s High-School Dance.