RANSVESTIA

Puzzlement stilled me... Harry watching... waiting . . . then seriously: "You would like to have the operation wouldn't you?"

"Yes" blanching inwardly at the cliché.

"Why?"

"I don't know.

thing

―

a coat

quite

just want to be the me I like being. If I have some- that doesn't fit, I have it altered."

"But it's so permanent

a coat can be changed again. I think you'd be a fool!" Harry means it . . . standing up, unclosets two daisy-flowered coffee mugs... spoons... half-n-half from the refrigerator-long-lashed Elsie Cow beaming in maroon.

The quiet cold of far-off magnetic Casablanca's steel blade whispers at my groin-my A-cup breasts will do... thighs self-press together flatten- ing my knee-sides as warm she-stuff nectar courses through me emerging in a tear on my lower lid as always I thought of catching the cry- stal drop to have it analyzed...

"The sugar's on the table - hey, you're not going to cry again... !”

―

Sniffing... “Sorry, Harry.”

A steaming cup slides between my tabled elbows - rich-smelling cof- fee vapor rising noseward... need-surge waning slightly. . . in control legs relaxed. Spooning. pouring stirring sipping pale peach-colored lipprints onto the daisied rim: “Good coffee . . .

•

"Thank you. The percolator did it."

Oh, dear Harry just a friend

•

nothing more if only you

•

could know the way I feel no, that's cruel, I'm happy for you... don't

―

wish this thing on you or any .

"It's just a fantasy," suggests Harry - sagely.

"More than that."

"Desire?"

"Greater."