Identity Question
They is a mask I choose to wear
To hide my I, avoid despair—
Hiding my gender, not he/she,
Rejecting sublime thoughts of me.
Particularity is way
Too specific for me as they—
Like clouds and rain, green grass in May,
Sunshine, rainbows, our dog at play.
They make our choice easy to choose,
Rejecting concrete hardcore booze—
Whisky and Guinness, rye and gin,
All those goddamn notions of sin!
So there, you shits, who hate my they,
Crosses and darkness at midday—
Jesus, Satan, so Christians say!
Who knows what’s real? we ask, we pray!
Who knows what’s real? not me, not they.
