sex change

your friend lenny tells
you that he needs to have
a serious talk, that
he wants to confide in
you something that you will
be sworn to secrecy with,
which surprises you, him
knowing what a blabber
mouth you are.
what is it, you ask as you
sit at the coffee shop.
i think i might really
be a woman inside, he
says. i don't feel like
a man anymore. a tear
rolls down his cheek.
you gag a little on your
dried out scone. i took
up knitting, he whispers,
leaning over the wobbly
table. i'm a knitter now.
look at my outfit, my shoes
match my sweater. feel my
hand, see how soft the skin
is. i'm taking baths
with grapefruit body lotions.
yesterday i baked a quiche
with little broccoli heads
in it. hey, hey. you
tell him. you're not
a woman, you're a man
of the, of the...
whatever this decade is
that we're in.
you still like women don't
you, sexually i mean,
you ask, reaching
over to pat his hand.
but you stop when you
see the charm bracelet
around his wrist with
little monopoly pieces.
yes. i like women, i love
women, he says, sobbing,
but maybe i'm a lesbian
woman inside a man's body.
he pulls a tissue out
from the top
of his lime green sweater
and dabs his eyes. i don't
want to get the operation, i
just don't want to do that.
calm down calm down you
tell him, you're not getting
anything cut off.
you're just becoming more
sensitive. you are growing
as a person. really? he says.
do you think that's all it is?
sure you tell him. the other
day in the dentist office i
flipped through an entire
copy of ladies home journal.
i feel better, he says.
whew. i've been so worried.
thank you for listening.
pffft, you say,
no problem buddy.
hey, he says, what are
you doing today,
do you want to go see Les
Miz. there's a matinee show
starting soon. umm.
you know what, i would, but
i have a yoga class in an hour.
rain check?