Epitaph for a Transsexual

 (for John-David)

He liked feminine things

as far back as I can remember:
high-heel shoes, scarves, purses,

dancing before mirrors.
School was a horror.
He preferred hopscotch to relay races,

jump rope to baseball.

I imagine a woman in search of her body,
a hijacked plane touched down

in a strange place,

or a photograph of someone else
in unfamiliar clothes.

He played out his life in a foreign film

with no subtitles, with no critics
to rave in reviews, no one

to laud his impersonation.

He was less reality than dream,
more imagination than possibility,

and he lived a life without a plot

and point of view,
like a poorly written story

filled with questions and no answers.

I think of a woman I did not know,
a sister I did not have.

(John-David died from complications caused by AIDS on June 3, 1987. He was 26 years old).