driver's license, the old one expired,
the picture on it
of me with
Bobby Sherman
styled hair
and wearing a turtleneck
sweater
circa 1978, the clerk asks
me what my
pronouns are,
huh, i say.
you know she says, what
do you identify as?
umm, well, last time i looked,
everything was
intact, so
i think man
would be my preferable
identity.
you're welcome to take a look
if you want,
i say, putting my hands
on my belt.
oh, no, that's okay. we
believe you.
so, she says, it's okay
to put you down
as a male.
white male, right?
well, sort of white, more
a pinkish hue in
the sunlight.
and your hair, you still have
a little, would
you call that grey or silver,
or...
how about platinum, i tell
her.
put me down as platinum
for hair.
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