The Restroom

I entered the restroom,

With no time to waste.

Simply put, I had to go,

And in all due haste.

I searched with trepidation,

And found the cleanest dirty stall.

Took care where I stepped,

‘Cause I didn’t want to slip and fall.

The stall door would close,

But it couldn’t be latched.

And the graffiti on the walls,

Was really unmatched.

The T.P. dispenser was jammed,

Packed so full and tight.

All I could do was sit there and cuss,

Pulling with all my might.

Then before I made my exit,

Having accomplished my goal,

I flushed the toilet twice,

But it wouldn’t go down the hole.

Yes, the toilet was plugged,

And the water began to rise.

And I swear I could hear,

The custodians’ cries.

When I went to wash my hands,

The cold water was cold, and so was the hot.

And looking at the mirror,

All I could see was soap scum and water spots.

The hand dryer wouldn’t dry,

And to keep things on par,

There were no paper towels to use,

This drip dry business has gone too far.

Ah, public restrooms,

Both a blessing and a curse.

I’m feeling kind of shitty,

Somebody get me a nurse.

Michael D. Schafer

© June 14, 2012