Concession stand

By Thomas Hobohm

some have waded in the water, 
ran their fingers through its currents, and felt no shock 

yet when i came out of the ocean, 
the line for the shower was endless 

so i let the eternal breeze dry me 
until i was coarse 

caked in sand, from my scalp 
to the cracks between my toes 

which i tapped on the tiles 
under the stall of stinky graffiti 

until the hot pink flip flops 
showed me my meal 

of saltwater & smoke, hamburgers & hotdogs 
fresh off the grill 

relish dripped the dressing down my crisp white shirt 
& i didn’t mind, i was already stained

Thomas Hobohm (they/them) is a young writer from SF by way of Texas. They're interested in interrogating queer desire and the will to intersubjective knowledge. When they're not reading or writing, they like to play volleyball or explore independent cinemas around San Francisco. They can be found on Twitter: https://twitter.com/thomashobohm.