BATHROOM SPACES
He props the bathroom door open
maybe to allow odious odors
freedom to assault more noses than his,
maybe a latent move for voyeurism
as he stands in a stall hidden
only by waffled plastic
knowing it’s him by his shoes,
maybe afraid of closed-in spaces,
dreaming of peeing in snow
or a desert highway where
evaporation is almost quicker than he,
maybe the wind banged open
the outhouse door when he visited
grandpa, and he stained his best shoes
in a startled turn around move
exposed for a moment,
exposed for longer as he scuffed dirt
onto a wet shoe on long path back.
GOING
As a child, I got up from the couch
and said, “I have to go to the lavatory,”
until my aunt said, “You don’t have
to announce it. Just go.”
What a concept? That I could get up,
walk down the hall and go
without letting anyone know
where I was going.
How brave I became in going,
but everyone knew,
and it made me feel
like going even more.
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