The bathroom pulls dignity groundward,
pulls emotion through pipes
that lead to assholes, ever downward,
ever toward the awkward word,
if someone were to open your stall
mid-business - the slapping of hands
down to cover the balls - and the importance,
of choosing the right stall
and then, if that's impossible,
not checking the length of other men's missiles.
But what of my question? Is it possible
to see heaven whilst shooting yellow piss
into a urinal? No. How about shitting?
Prolonged sitting at the tribunal permits a book.
A book permits the momentary look at God
provided it's great shiterature;
God smiles. God nods, waves,
and sunshine bursts right through the ass!