you had a choice

to be honest

or not


you looked truth in the eye

and blinked first



you will always live with the choice you made


you will never know what might have been


Friday Night

Rear Window shines on a white stucco wall

Charred pita slides onto the platter

Salt-rimmed glasses

Filled and unfilled

Clutter the too small table




Friday night

One Week

So, you are through week one

Week one as yourself


How did it go


It went Are you gay

It went strutting

It went Why are you wearing girl shoes

It went smiling

It went Mr wants him to call him Ms now and I respect that

It went excitement

And heartache and frustration and bliss


It went I heard a rumor that you want to be called Ms now

And I said Yes


It went glimmers of me

An Apology


I’m still waiting.

Waiting on an apology.

An apology from you.

And, I plan to keep waiting until I get it.


I need you to admit that what you are doing is wrong.

I need you to know that what you are doing,


It goes against everything you were taught.

It goes against everything I thought I knew about you.


I will keep waiting.”

We said, almost in unison,

Our voices echoing in the chasm between us.


Sometimes, it works.

This whole writing thing.

I have an idea.

It’s outlined.

I walk with it,

     taking in the scenery around me.


I dive with it,

     swimming within the memory as words pour forth.


I start and stop and restart with it,

     like learning how to drive stick for the very first time,

     an audience around me laughing every time the words fail.


Part of me feels like running
Running away
Because of how I feel
And of how you feel

It would just be easier to run
And not look back
One Converse clad foot in front of the other

But when I see you
I lose my breath

Who I Am . . . (circa 2011)

I am present and accounted for

I wonder about the days after tomorrow

I hear the voices of encouragement

I see the possibilities ahead

I want the endless possibilities

I am present and accounted for


I pretend to be filled with optimism

I feel bogged down by the required rhetoric

I touch the dreams barely out of reach

I worry over my exponentially increasing failures

I cry outside the gates of my dreams

I am present and accounted for


I understand the impossibility of dreams

I say that despair is never a viable option

I dream that the leaf can always turn

I try to achieve my full potential

I hope the end is not near

I am present and accounted for


I would love to capture you with words.

Language echoing passion and care.


But, alas, you are too free and beautiful to be held with symbols on a page,

Or, a screen.


I must settle to share you with the world

And, savor every moment that we have,

For tomorrow,

The future,

There is you,


There is I,

An endless sea of possibilities.