You looked out of sorts when I saw you at the Walmart entrance yesterday.
Your hair was a mess, your dress flapping against the stiff New Mexico breeze.
You looked cold wearing only the small jacket and the black stockings.
You looked lonely, like you have the other times I’ve seen you when I’ve gone to shop.
I thought about saying hello. I thought about telling you that maybe we had some of the same struggles.
You always seem out of place.
I’ve felt that way.
Like being the only boy in a ballet class long ago.
But my struggle with being out of place runs deeper.
Being out of place in your own body. Being out of place in society.
I do wonder if you’ve felt the same way I do.
And how you had the courage to deal with it.