they call me she
they call me a liar
they tell me that im not trans
they tell me that I should be set on fire
They call me a sin
They call me fake
They tell me that ill never win
They call me a ****
They call me a creep
I'm just expressing my gender identity.
I just want to *** in the right restroom.
What
The
****
Do
You
Mean
By
That?

Door opens. It’s a party.  Two girlfriends, dressed to the nines,  leave their partners and retreat to the powder room.
You think my guy sees what I’m wearing?
Think mine does?
Let’s swap dresses and see what happens.
In an urban minute they walk over to the bar.
Male, good looking but going on sixty: Didn’t I see you two on some catwalk?
What, the dress or me?
Good question, not sure I would recognize you without.
Girls walk on to the dance floor.
Woman, tattoo-faced, XTC-eyed: Didn’t I see you two in the tattoo parlor?
Sure, dress feels like it’s on us to stay.
Don’t worry, my eyes are lasers.
Go peel a banana.
Girls find their boys.
Boys: What you said is right, music’s too loud to say anything.
Then don’t say it.
Did I say something wrong?
Girls decide to swap back.
In an urban minute they’re back and bump into their boys.
Sweeties, something the matter?
What would that be?
Looks like you went and changed.

The scarecrow scares
     The scaredy cat.
The scarecrow stares.
The scarecrow scares
The boy he swears
     (While staring) at.
The scarecrow scares
     The scaredy cat.

Missing lemon boy again

Turns out he’s not always so sour,
despite his shades.
I can still see his smile
I hope it never fades

With every passing hour
He crosses my mind
I wish I could see him
I miss feeling, intertwined

I wonder if he’s thinking of me?
or maybe
reading my poetry?

A tiger’s view.
From a bedroom window.
Draws me towards it.
Or is it just the dog next door barking.

Doh! Dang alarm clock.

He said hours go by in twos with you,
2 was not my favorite number before,
But it’s my favorite now,