Because every Tyler I have known never
Sat on the porch at 10:26 pm and wrote
A chatty poem about the various nuances
Associated with changing their name
Too busy were they with running charming
Bowling alleys and delivering pizza stoned
Off quaaludes and I never have been good
At setting up those pins and I am sleepy
Enough as it is. Honestly, I always cringed
Hearing a lovely mouth utter such a name
So I coerced others into calling me odder
Things, T-Gob, Biscuits, Bones, but nothing
Stuck. Some names just fit right like Jimmy
For my drunk neighbor who now rides past
On his bike, for the first time I have seen
Lights announcing his way through the night
Waving again at each other beyond the debacle
Of 2022 when his mom kicked him out and
He slept in a tent in our yard for two weeks.
You can guess the rest of the story, including
Him calling me the hard f-word in my rainbow
Socks. Life continued on, still Tyler. It is June
Now and as I hung up our rainbow flag earlier
A boy appeared, wondering how I feel about this
Pride month thing. I pointed at the flag, shrugged
And smiled, or I babbled something with words
Like identity, awareness, still learning to be fully
Myself. I said, “How do you feel about it, buddy?”
He lit up. He glowed. A bright bumblebee grin.
Something about a party for his queer family
Members, something about how beautiful it is
To discover all these stripes in the breeze. I thought
About telling him how I resisted the urge to change
My name, fearful to disrespect the objectively
Harsher reality of folks changing their first names
As they come to terms with their gender identity.
I thought about telling him how one reason I am
Actually moving forward is a queer friend argued
My name change, in order to be my fullest, most
Authentic self, actually honors those legacies, how
I think this reason might be a bit thin, how despite
This suspicion, I still feel validated in this journey.
Instead I offered him two thumbs up and he returned
The gesture, scooting off into what was quickly
Becoming the night, this night I still inhabit. I am
Changing my name to Callahan because it is what
My parents intended to call me before my father
He wrote in a letter to my mother, “I can’t wait
To meet our little Cow-A-Hand,” even drawing
A little doodle of a hand at the end of his sentence.
“Um, no,” said mother who quickly jostled her
Maiden name, Tyner, into my ill-fitting moniker, this
Tyler with which I have been tussling since I loved
The female lead in the 1991 Patrick Swayze flick
Point Break, played by Lori Petty. To be attracted
To someone with my same name stung harder
Than the other wild attractions I have embraced.
Since then I have been left for another Tyler, better
Hair, simpler brains, more tattoos. I have gone
Completely mad at least three times, lost countless
Jobs, opportunities, friends, articles of clothing.
In and out of the hospital. In and out of reality.
In and out of my own way. This past year, I cleared
The gunk which sustained my funk and this feels
Like a last bit of former stank to air out. I am
Changing my name because soon I step forward
Into the next morning with my beloved B, this
Lady who decided to cloak herself in a new name
Too, adopting the Gobble. One of my vows insists
I will cheerlead for her, she will never have to do
The difficult, the confusing, the terrifying alone
Again. I take this new name as we step deeper
Into divine madness, where we are not lovers
But love itself, a fitting handle for all we endure.