This is a story/poem that addresses the question that I get asked a lot particularly by drunk people, "do you have sex in your wheelchair?"
It’s also about saying goodbye to my old wheelchair and welcoming in the new one.
This one looks just like my old one.
In 5years the manufacturers can offer me
nothing new, no new inventions,
just a $3000 price increase. So I look for the things
that make her different-yes, she is a her,
who may become a him,
or float in-between in a gender-bending land.
I am levitating off the ground.
I move this way.
I feel the speed of a hill and its slow climb,
the vibration of every bump, the lean of a gutter.