Dear Q.eer Young Girl, I see you. You don’t want them to see you so you change the pronouns in your love poems to “him” instead of “her.” I used to do that. Dear Straight People, You make young poets make bad edits. Dear Straight People, Kissing my girlfriend in public without looking to see who’s around is a luxury I do not fully have yet. But tonight, I am drunk in my freedom, grab her hand on the busiest street in Philadelphia, zip my fingers into hers and press our lips firmly, until we melt their stares into a standing ovation, imagine that we are in a sea of smiling faces, even when we’re not and when we’re not, we start shoveling, digging deep into each other’s eyes we say, “Hey Baby, can’t nothing stop this tonight” because tonight, this world is broken and we’re the only thing that’s going to keep it together.