Since I'm destined to be a coffee ground,

I want to be fertilizer.

I don't exist in your bookshops or museums.

I don't have a place on your TVs or radios.

You'll never hear about me.

I'm destined to get filtered out and tossed aside.

I live unabashedly on the fence.

Somewhere between male and female,

Somewhere between introvert and extravert

Somewhere between hairbows and bowties.

Somewhere between abstract and fact.

Simultaneously in the middle of Nowhere and Now Here.

No, I may not exist in your bookshops and museums,

or on your TVs and radios,

But I do exist.

But like the grounds in your coffee,

I'm filtered from your "polite" society

because it can't put me on its binary.

Go ahead though.

Leave me in your filter.

Toss me aside.

Just put me in the garden

so I can help the pods

who slide on spectrums,

rather than standing on binaries,

grow into deliciously diverse beans

for your filter.