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Too
much
estrogen
,
and
you
get
bitch
tits
.
It
's
easy
to
cry
when
you
realize
that
everyone
you
love
will
reject
you
or
die
.
On
a
long
enough
time
line
,
the
survival
rate
for
everyone
will
drop
to
zero
.
Bob
loves
me
because
he
thinks
my
testicles
were
removed
,
too
.
Around
us
in
the
Trinity
Episcopal
basement
with
the
thrift
store
plaid
sofas
are
maybe
twenty
men
and
only
one
woman
,
all
of
them
clung
together
in
pairs
,
most
of
them
crying
.
Some
pairs
lean
forward
,
heads
pressed
ear-to-ear
,
the
way
wrestlers
stand
,
locked
.
The
man
with
the
only
woman
plants
his
elbows
on
her
shoulders
;
one
elbow
on
either
side
of
her
head
,
her
head
between
his
hands
,
and
his
face
crying
against
her
neck
.
The
woman
's
face
twists
off
to
one
side
and
her
hand
brings
up
a
cigarette
.
I
peek
out
from
under
the
armpit
of
Big
Bob
.
"
All
my
life
,
"
Bob
cries
.
"
Why
I
do
anything
,
I
do
n't
know
.
"
The
only
woman
here
at
Remaining
Men
Together
,
the
testicular
cancer
support
group
,
this
woman
smokes
her
cigarette
under
the
burden
of
a
stranger
,
and
her
eyes
come
together
with
mine
.
Faker
.
Faker
.
Faker
.
