* * *

Her brand-new bathroom’s feng shui is perfect: the floor-to-ceiling mirror fogs up immediately.

Not to sound callous, but what I remember most is how large & soft her guest towels were.

The old guy in the rest stop’s ultra-modern men’s room takes a long time zipping up, stands there looking all over for something to push.

The graffito might just as well have read, “Everybody Meditates.”

I sat on the crapper eating a sandwich. Hey, it happens.

In the men’s room at the public library someone reeking of body odor moaned & howled with abandon in the only stall. I pissed as quietly as I could.

Why would anyone name a kid “John”? He’ll get shat on, his girlfriend will write to tell him she’s found someone else, he’ll end up paying for anonymous sex.

Across from the toilet in a spider web near the floor a trapped millipede coils, uncoils.

Three million households in New York City and every one has an intermittent stream flowing through it.

At the back-to-nature jamboree hundreds of kids independently decided to go squat in the creek when they had to potty.

If I ever install a composting toilet, I’ll have to get one of those New Age desktop fountains with the little pebbles in it.

The old privy. A turd falls in. No sound of water.