I don’t want to disappear.
But that’s not the same as
wanting to be announced.
I am tired
of watching people’s faces
rearrange themselves
around THE thing
I told them.
The smile stays…
usually.
But suddenly I am softer
in their hands.
Suddenly I am brave
for buying coffee,
for laughing too loud,
for leaving the house
in a cowboy hat
wanting nothing
but the day.
Men get careful,
like I am a glass
they almost dropped.
Women make a room
for me with no windows or doors.
I know kindness
when I see it.
I also know the shape
of being handled.
And I am so fucking tired
of being translated
before I have spoken.
There are names I had to dig out
from under other people’s expectations.
There is a body
I have had to come back to
like a house after a storm.
There is a boy in me,
a man in me,
a person in me
who would like to go outside
without becoming a lesson.
I want an ordinary life.
Gray morning.
Green trees after rain.
A quiet day
an easy night.
I want friendship
without the little pause.
Love without the footnote.
A room where I am known
but not narrowed.
I want to tell the truth
and have it land
like any other truth.
Quietly.
Not hidden in the walls.
Not framed in gold.
Just there.
Like keys on the table.
Like boots by the door.
Like my own name
answering
when I call it.
Chestnut Cowboy 