Hot Trans Summer

Hot Trans Summer • Alexander Seils

Three layers of thick binding fabric hug my chest,

Drinking in the summertime heat, like

Hands clasped around the last sip of water for miles.

Perspiration burrows into the folds of my flesh,

Honey-sticky. The grass against my ankles is crisp.

Cars rest in the parking lot and the breeze spreads

Their burning rubber cologne to the clouds above.

Men pass on the sidewalk. They have

Full shoulders like rolling hills and

Rumbling voices like thunderstorms.

Wispy grass hair on their faces and smooth

Stones on their throats. The air bends around them

As it does the red-rock mountains on the horizon.

They walk tall with chests unburdened,

Unbound; the clouds give them shelter from the sun’s rays

But never me.

If our bodies are homes, theirs have insulation and AC;

Mine is glass.