(In a vacant church Little Girl and Big Man sit on a parish
a few feet apart, in between them lies a book titled"My Feelings".)

(The curtain opens. Little Girl sits staring at Big Man. Big Man gets up and goes to the statue of himself in front of them for a closer look.)

Big Man: Will talking in person really make a difference?

Little Girl: I like to think it does.

Big Man:  (turns to look at her incredulously.) What wishful thinking, you're so naïve.

(Little Girl opens her book and starts to read aloud.)

(Big Man cuts her off with a noise every time she starts to say something until she falls silent.)

Big Man: Just as I thought, it doesn't change anything.

Little Girl: But you don't-

Big Man: (cuts her off again.) You just can't let things go, that's your problem. I told you I didn't want to do this, yet you dragged me out here. It didn't accomplish anything!

Little Girl: That's because you don't even want to listen or try to talk, you just want to yell and blame me!

Big Man: That's enough, this conversation is over. (Walks off stage right.)

(Little Girl screams in anger and throws "My Feelings" at the Big Man Statue.)

(The Curtain closes.)

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And look down,
I see the big old air conditioner compressor,
Rusty after decades of use
In Michigan’s sometimes-90s summers.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And glance left,
I see the faithful church,
Where I’ve spent almost as much of my life in as this house,
Where I’ve met my best friends.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And view right,
I see the standard size basketball hoop,
That I’ve dribbled under my whole life,
That has seen countless children attempt at its rim.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And overlook the church’s parking lot,
I see the large backyard,
Where I’ve kicked innumerable soccer *****,
And dug limitless snow forts.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And gaze into the past,
I see you and me,
Riding around in that PowerJeep,
And that dent we put in the church.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And contemplate what’s in the present,
I see the crooked basketball hoop,
The steeple that lost its cross,
And the dead tree we don’t have the heart to tear down.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And focus on the future,
I see a million different scenarios
Playing out in my head,
And I don’t even know which one I want.

All I know is nothing’s
Going to get done now,
My future isn’t going to be decided,
My life isn’t going to make itself,
While I’m just gazing out my bedroom window.

Entangled in an ivy mass,
Surrounded by the lush long grass,
Some purple flowers show their heads,
Inbetween eternal beds.

On the graves, people weep,
On the people deep in sleep,
People live and people die,
After death it's here they lie.

Trust the dead and do not fear,
Their hearts and souls are always near
They do not live deep underground,
It's inside you that love is found.

I kiss with my eyes open sometimes
I like to believe I can see into someone's soul

It makes me feel like I am a kid with her face pushed up against a window
Looking into a place of wonder.
I am the child
And you are the candy store.

I want to memorize
How your nose crinkles a little bit
How your eyebrows pull together in the center
How your cheeks flush.

When I kiss you,
The heavens open up.
How could I close my eyes
When the angel that I have always heard about in church
Was right here in front of me?

I kiss with my eyes open sometimes.

There was a girl
With a plaid skirt,
A red bow,
And lovely pink cheekbones.
She carried a smile,
Sometimes a laugh,
When we ran through
The church parking lot.
She was so fast
In her white stockings
And little black shoes
That it became hard
To keep up with her.

I wonder when,
I wonder why,
She stopped playing tag,
I wonder how it was
That she forgot
How to run.

I miss you, my friend,
You were the best there ever was.

Congratulations! It’s a girl.
The third girl of three,
To be baptized, to sit at pew surrounded by the congregation,
Who would deem my existence as unworthy.
My entire life a sin, even though my first prayer was to rid this sin of me.
But God did not answer me.
Or I was just too foolish to not listen to him.
My mother promised me something,
When I grow up I can be anything I want.
I decided to be a boy.
Naturally I did not come out of the closet,
The kids in school pulled me out.
Calling by words I did not recognize, “****, ******, Lesbian”
But I was more boy than girl, more Men’s Magazine than Maybelline.
I forcefully swallowed the phrases along with the slurs.
Uncles at reunions eyeing my scraped up knees,
Supposed to be covered by a flowery dress.
A short ponytail in the place of golden locks.
“I didn’t know I had a nephew.”
Aunts picking a my blushing cheeks,
And my female cousins begging to paint my face.
But my whole body’s already painted on.
My genetic makeup contributing the question of my anatomy.
My mother feared for my safety,
Afraid my name would become another hashtag within a second.
Another name whispered in hushed conversations.
Another ******* name of transgender homicide.
I am walking grave with a name painted on to which I do not recognize.
My life dependent on the mercy of hateful strangers,
The minute I walk out the door,
I become a feast for the eyes of strangers.
Confused at my gender expression,
They feast on my queer with hateful slurs.
Maybe someday God will answer my prayers.