Steven Sanchez – Meet Me at the Gay Denny’s Part 3

Steven Sanchez

Meet Me at the Gay Denny’s Part 3

14 years ago, after a trip to a haunted house and hay ride, I came out to my closest friends in a Denny’s because I was in my first relationship and wanted to share that part of my life with them. We were sitting at the Denny’s in Selma, I squeezed my (at the time) boyfriend’s hand under the table and said, “ Hey everyone. Jake and I are together.” I lifted our hands up and the first thing somebody said was “JAKE’S GAY?!” 

Not the reaction I was expecting, but it could have been worse. 

Jake lived in Fresno, I lived in Hanford, and neither of us felt safe telling our parents. So, whenever we had a chance to be together, we went to Denny’s A LOT since it was open 24 hours. We went so often we became friends with one of our servers, Mary (she eventually became a manager). We also became friends with the head manager, Marilyn. I think they both knew how nervous I was (maybe Jake, too), and they’d let us sit in the section that was closed off whenever we wanted.

It was at this Denny’s, in those sometimes closed off sections, that I got to practice being Queer in public—I practiced looking at him intently and giggling, practiced rubbing my foot against his leg, even practiced holding his hand when I was feeling especially brave. That Denny’s became the first place I felt safe to be Queer in public. 

Even after Jake and I went our own ways, I still used Denny’s to hang out with my gay friends after drinking at Legends, or to sometimes meet guys from Grindr (I know, I know, a Denny’s pitstop isn’t the norm for a hookup, but as a baby gay, if we could meet at Denny’s first, it made me feel a little bit more at ease about the whole thing.) I even met somebody at a Denny’s who I ended up being in a relationship with for 8 years. 

If Queer time really is a circle, then it’s told by the analog clock above the cash register in every single Denny’s.

Michelle Brittan Rosado – Every Window Filled with Trees

Michelle Brittan Rosado

Every Window Filled with Trees

I climb the wooden 
staircase 
to the backhouse 
built above 
the garages 
and I’m here 
at the level 
of the treetops 
thinking of 
Dickinson’s line 
about the gambrels 
of the sky 
and then remember 
my ancestors 
walked up carved logs 
to longhouses 
on stilts to outlast 
the floods—
and isn’t it always 
this way, 
some memory deep 
in my bloodline 
at the same time as 
an intimation 
of the western canon,
my body floating 
just feet above 
the earth, like a brain 
perched at the top 
of a spine, a branch 
etching its message 
back and forth
on the glass

Author’s note: The poems in this series all use the image of a window as their starting point, some in the title itself and others more peripherally. I’ve been thinking of this symbol a lot lately — as a portal for wonder in childhood, an aperture to others’ lives during the pandemic, a view of the world outside after giving birth and spending those early days indoors. These poems may not have come into existence without the invitation to contribute to The Fresno 15, and I am endlessly grateful to the MFA program for my years there and the deep sense of community I’ve carried with me since graduating in 2011. Thank you for reading and for supporting the Larry Levis Memorial Scholarship. 

Steven Sanchez – Meet Me at the Gay Denny’s Part 2

Steven Sanchez

Meet Me at the Gay Denny’s Part 2

J. Jack Halberstam, a brilliant Queer social critic, explains the idea of Queer Time—Halberstam argues that straight people operate on a linear timeline: they’re born, hit puberty, date and explore their sexuality through adolescence, find a partner, get married, have kids, grow old, retire, and die. 

Queers, however, don’t really follow that. For one, most Queer kids had to give up exploring their sexuality during adolescence or risk being ridiculed, beaten, or murdered (just yesterday, my partner’s friend was gay bashed and had to get stitches). If we’re lucky, we end up exploring those aspects of ourselves in our 20s and 30s, causing what he calls “a second, Queer puberty.” Then, we spend those years catching up on everything our straight counterparts got to explore in depth for at least a decade already. As far as the kids go, it’s usually pretty difficult for Queer couples to procreate on accident. And marriage wasn’t even really a factor our community even had the privilege of considering until just a few years ago. 

To top this off, straight people have different bars for young folks, middle-aged folks, and older folks. 

Queers, if we are lucky, get 1 or 2 bars for us. And, regardless of our age, we all gather there. In Queer bars, Halberstam explains, is where our Queer elders are able to connect with the newest generation of Queers and everyone in between. We play Lady Gaga alongside Cher alongside Judy Garland. Our fashion and style and dance intersect constantly. So much of Queer culture is exchanged and nurtured through our Queer bars because they are often the only place we feel safe enough to do that. 

Whereas straight people tend to silo their circles off based on generation, Queer folks don’t follow those same conventions. Because of that, Halberstam says that Queer time is a circle—the eldest generations continuously meeting the younger generation, each generation continuously informing the other. 

Of course, last call always brings this to a close, and that’s where gay Denny’s comes in. For folks in Fresno, you know the one: the corner of Blackstone and Shields.

Michelle Brittan Rosado – Condition of Rental Property Checklist

Michelle Brittan Rosado

Condition of Rental Property Checklist

The metal-framed windows keep sliding 
down in the heat, so we prop them up

with painters’ sticks left behind
by the workers after the last tenants

moved away. It’s our first apartment and we’re going 
to make this work, holding up every window 

for any breeze, though mostly catching 
the elderly neighbor’s midnight cigars 

on the stoop below, the divorcée’s video game 
soundtrack chiming down the courtyard. Hot air 

and car exhaust swirl between us. Still, we buy flowers 
though they wilt in a day, bananas darken 

overnight, a string of ants threads the hole 
in the window screen finding shade and sweet.

Author’s note: The poems in this series all use the image of a window as their starting point, some in the title itself and others more peripherally. I’ve been thinking of this symbol a lot lately — as a portal for wonder in childhood, an aperture to others’ lives during the pandemic, a view of the world outside after giving birth and spending those early days indoors. These poems may not have come into existence without the invitation to contribute to The Fresno 15, and I am endlessly grateful to the MFA program for my years there and the deep sense of community I’ve carried with me since graduating in 2011. Thank you for reading and for supporting the Larry Levis Memorial Scholarship. 

Steven Sanchez – Meet Me at the Gay Denny’s Part 1

Steven Sanchez

Meet Me at the Gay Denny’s Part 1

So, I’ve always thought Denny’s was a little gay. To prove this, I googled “Denny’s is queer” and, ignoring the first result talking about how a server refused to wait on a party of Queers in New Mexico, I found a listicle titled “10 Best Queer or LGBTQ-Welcoming Restaurants in Phoenix” and learned that Phoenix, Arizona has its very own gay Denny’s at the corner of 7th St and Camelbade Road. In the comments section, everyone started sharing about their own gay Denny’s in cities all over the country.

Imagine that: right now, there is a national network of gay 24 hr diners for Queers to gather and eat and share a basket of mozzarella sticks in a drunk stupor while nursing a round of waters. To top it all off, the artist Joan of Arkansas has a song titled “Meet Me at the Gay Denny’s” where the chorus goes

Meet me
at the Gay Denny’s
where there’s safety in numbers.
Where there’s safety in numbers.

Where there’s safety in numbers. This line repeats itself 12 times in the course of 3 minutes. 

After hearing this, it clicked. Queer bars are often the only places where Queer communities can gather safely, relax, and celebrate ourselves in all of our Queerness and faggotry. And once the bar closes, where else is left to go but a diner that’s conveniently around the corner and open 24 hours?