It’s better to have your heart pulled in too many ways than too few.
To think of the faces from all too-distant places
Better to weep than to refuse
The other night while I was checking my email I K had sent me a message on Facebook. It said.
“Hi how are you. Looks like Moreau Heights educated not one transexual but two.”
He apologized for not always being there for me and he asked if I could be a supporter.
“Of course,” I respond. It’s not an easy way to grow, but if I can help i will help in everyway that I know.”
I remember the last times I’d seen him- the last rendeveau before my family moved. I couldn’t speak and he couldn’t speak – nothing to do and nothing to prove. So we held each other with the knowledge of two children about how the world spun and who it is we lose. And we hoped with the power of a child’s forever that it would spin us back to the other’s refuge.
His mother said I’d marry him, and I only half-disbelieved for there was something each other’s embrace; a trace; a taste, that we together had mroe than just this life to grieve.
I remember in Minnesota, I’d sleep pretending he was there besdie me. And at BU we’d cought each other but for a new girlfriend’s jealousy.
But now the space between us is all the skies and the seas. i wonder if the world ever spun or if that was jus him and that was just me. I wonder if he’s alright now and if life brings light to his eyes, or if like me from grad two to grade three an end of life was my only prize.
I’m sorry for my silence, and compliance in violence against myself and your memory. I’m sorry if you missed me when i said what I felt when you kissed me, cause each trance was my lst chance to look into your eyes and realize the impossibility of what you meant to me.
