If sitting stalls apart weren't such a waste
of space, then who would do it? On a whim,
I peer into my neighbor's creche: it's dim,
but there he is—eyes shut, his hands misplaced
on stubble, knuckle-white, his torso braced
against the porcelain seat-back, a hymn
of sorts immaculately purring, slim
& virgin, through his teeth. It's time we faced
the facts: the doors aren't shut for privacy.
We're all a little sermonal these days.
A third of bathroom occupants can pee
while standing, but game theory never pays—
so stake your claim and squat. The bourgeoisie
eat up the lion's share of piss & praise.
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