the friend who held me

through my year of fear and pain and defeat and waiting

exhale into memory in my arms and

said no to the someone else’s dreams, opened wide and

let the pieces fall into grooves of a life

built for years in frozen fog,

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I did not realize

that I could have my heart broken

by a country, by a season, by

the winter sun, by a walk

to the DMV, by the snowdrops bursting

from the edge of the sidewalk, by the man who

smiles at me as he passes, by his dog, even,

because what is a transsexual for, even, if not for your judgement, your

scorn, your painful envy, your throbbing

want of a freedom so far beyond your feeble imagination

that you tremble in its shadow, that you gasp

for even the hint of its aftertaste floating

through the morning fog, burning

its golden path

into every tomorrow