I Heart Fags

I love fags because I am a San Franciscan.
If you’re dissing on my homos
then this censure’s what you’re risking
(I’m insisting on containing my temper but listen up):
you shouldn’t ought to be intolerant about who queers like to fuck!

Fags are great. They’ve got hundreds of uses.
You can see them on TV explaining what puce is.
Abstruse is the world, but very simple is the homo:
he or she is anyone who’s keen to do another one more so
than the opposite. Follow?
Fags are great ‘cause almost every single one swallows —
or so I’m led to believe. Lesbians also I’ve heard of,
not to mention non-gender-identified spivaks seeking nerd love.
And I’ve spurned just about everything there is,
‘cause I was born here, and here’s where I live.
Here, I give you this advice: love a fag today,
either up close and personally or from far away.
See, fags are gay, and gay’s a good adjective.
It means like happy and high, but you had to just
shy me away from the topic of my fag-love...
something maybe that you’re lacking in? Don’t get mad just
‘cause you don’t have such a big heart as Frontalot.
You could love fags too! You already think dykes are hot.
Why not come on down to the street fair?
There’s asses in chaps plus rough trade to meet there,
some of whom been barebacking it in back alleys for years.
Yo, I promise if you visit you could meet some queers.
And if you love even just one, hooray!
If you don’t, well I hope you enjoyed your stay,
and I hope you go on your merry way
with the chorus of my song slowly turning you gay.

And you don’t love fags. This much is apparent.
You’re having nightmares about them. Every time you get your hairs cut,
you stare what you suspect could be a queer man
in the eye, in the mirror, enzymes coming out your fear gland.
He’s got scissors near your eardrums!
You might lose your hearing, you don’t watch it with these queer ones.
And here comes your presidential cheerleader now,
so “disturbed” by the marriages in my home town
that he’s got to take the tip top law in the land down
scribble on it: “I hate homos, big bad frown.”
Put it back up, be like “What? It’s better!
Y’all were with me a second ago
when I said that marriage was threatened!
And it was! Under siege by these villains.
Can you believe they wanted to gang up and have children?
There would be an army of them, teeming and thronging,
tempting every American to give in to forbidden longing.
I thought they couldn’t reproduce. That was their weakness!
Now what are we gonna do? They’re gonna seek just
treatment under the law? Dammit, that’s like saying
it’s okay to be gay. Or a lesbian! Hey man,
you cannot say that. Society would crumble and fall apart.”
I’ll think about that on the BART,
gladdening every inch of the ride
to be on the way to the where-I-reside:
not just a place where I keep my stuff,
but the spot got plenty of the kind of person that I love.