Inside the space where the thoughts

are your own, where the brief

space between wondering

who the fuck we are

and what does it matter to anyone else,

in that cubicle, in that closet

and holding tissue to wipe away

the fear of passing

out when others demand to know

why you are using the toilet in Carolina,

surely all we should have to say,

all that needs to be said,

I am a girl,

I am a boy,

I identify with one,