Twenty-Three

i was raised a girl
but i'm not a girl


we spoke of little boys shouting
their love for pink crayons
then suffocating innocently under

the big wooly comforter
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with which all your elders
lovingly want to keep you warm

and safe. yes, safe
from the androgenous
awkwards the oh nos and
the
ums instead of which
well, wouldn't it just be easier to say
you're a girl, i'm a guy,
let's call it a day?

i was raised a girl
but i'm not a girl


who knew these thoughts simmered underneath her skull for years and years? who knew he had a choice?

who knows that there is a choice
that could be heard by more
if not for that blanket of
ballerina shoes and Thai ka's and kra's
masking a voice
singing sweetly of pink crayons in a
world where there is no such thing as
Woman or Man