They Come In Waves Heads together, slush-puppy ice-waves Blending With childhood-memory candyfloss, Sending Stereotypes of "the boy one" and "the girl one" Saves Of cognitive shortcuts whose codes May not reflect reality; Because Whether fairground floss or dreamscape sea, They are both, in several ways, "The girl one." A babe and her hun, Holding quiche, Taking the chiller-cabinet background to The watermelon They've been eyeing since they first walked in. Tie-dye jeans tied to Genes that have you tied Between shafts of assumption And expectation. Your truth will out. I reach up, open the door Look back to see you follow me; Relieved, and a little more relaxed Than you were before. We both reached this point Where the roads converged. We each pushed past barriers, Cut back thorns, Ignored warning signs To take the road less travelled - I hope we get to talk together About the difference that it made. 'They Come In Waves' was developed fro
The life and times of Ash Ford-McAllister, a blind trans man, writer, thinker, and (mostly) human.