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Living in Between
(A Litany of a TS living in a male mode)

    

I live in between.

It is morning.
A woman’s dream ends
and I awake, easing my old male body from my bed.
I live in between.
 
Yet I can thank God for a mind mostly free of male rigidity
and a gentle sweet soul.
I live in between.
 
My eyes fill with tears at a sad song on the car radio,
but I don’t stop to ask for directions when I get lost.
I live in between.
 
When my wife wistfully says, "I wish I could wear a dress like that,"
I silently agree, wishing that I could to.
I live in between.
 
Approaching two restroom doors, I hesitate briefly,
wondering which me should go in which door.
I live in between.
 
There’s a lovely, supple young woman.
long hair stirring in the spring breeze,
the men with me want to lay her;
I want to be her. 
I live in between.

A thought, persistent,
peeks shyly from the back of my brain,
like a frightened child in a doorway.
Wherever I am,
whoever I am with,
even when I am alone,
I am always a member
of the opposite sex.
I live in between.

                       by Emmie Dee

   

  

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