Spider in the Toilet

In the claustrophobic cubicle (the reason none other dare use it) That is my exclusive toilet, At the stroke of midnight We engage in a silent conversation.

I sit on the seat, hardly a foot away from her. Twisting myself awkwardly, I strain to focus. in the dim light, her eyes twinkle As the light of the headlamp lights her up.

I have known her ( or her ancestors) for long. Very polite, seemingly embarrassed Having to witness my nocturnal Passage of the bowels, she pretends To be busy with cleaning herself up. Observing her through the camera I am reminded of the many lonely nights and days in toilets I have spent in the company of ants, spiders Geckos and frogs Who sit mute, still, watching me.

She isn't afraid of me; nor am I of her In that companionable, comfortable Camaraderie that I feel only with very few - Dogs, dragonflies and arachnids of different hues.

A cubicle of a toilet is a safe place For friends, outcasts, to come together.