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The Transvestite in My Foyer

Today I saw you again

Sitting so gingerly on the bench in my foyer

I said “hola”

You returned the courtesy

 

You in your dress too short

Your legs crossed in a barely feminine manner

Your burnt orange colored wig sitting haphazardly on your dark brown hair

High heels dangling from your man-sized feet

Your face unshaven

 

Do you live in my building?

Do you think about shaving?

What bars do you go to?

Do your friends dress like you?

Do your friends shave?

Do you hear the people laugh when you walk past?

Do you care?

Why do you dress like a woman?

When did you start?

Why did you choose that color wig?

 

Sorry for all of the questions

I guess what I really want to know is;

Do you want to party?

Fiction

Patiently waiting for publiction.

Poetry

What I Have, I Give to You

Love's Journey

The Transvestite in My Foyer

A Response to a Call for Themed Poetry


The Old Man on the Mantle

 

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