who saved me from a pat-down
from the frowning man
who punched a gender
into the body scanner machine
& concluded
that I might have a bomb
strapped to my chest. Praise
the queers who work
in customer service, who see
our documents
in some distant call center
& don’t switch mid-stream
from sir to ma’am to sir again.
Praise the only woman in sales
at the car dealership who
cut us a deal without posturing,
since we never learned how
to posture. Praise the knowledge,
from the List of Important Things
That Nobody Tells You,
that all trans people
should spring for TSA Pre
to avoid all this groping
in the first place. They say that
a gratitude habit rewires
your brain, & after
a day in security lines,
boy do I need some rewiring.
Praise the trans lady who sold
us that bulbous silicone
enema kit, who told us:
it’s not her favorite,
she’s still searching
for her favorite––
her room is filling up
with enema products both
baroque and futuristic,
bags & bulbs, spouts & syringes,
her drawers overflowing.
We would never trust
anyone else.