This bathroom is really a spy room
As I shut the door, it’s evident. I can hear the entire bar, every conversation. A cacophony of clinked silverware on plates, glasses toasted, and a myriad of voices. I hear my wife express concern at my aloofness just as the piss stream hits the bowl, bubbling so loud her voice becomes distorted. I hear a loud-mouth at another table praise the economy and his modest mastery of it. As I shake, I hear a nervous young man tell his date how beautiful her hair looks. Flush and wash my hands. I wait to put them under the dryer, compelled by the swoon of the obvious first date. He stumbles over every word as he tries so hard to be smooth. Exasperation from the wait staff at the increasing capacity; the dryer rushes to life, drowns all else out. With dry hands, I stay a moment longer, focusing on the first date, but the loud-mouth suit gets louder. I’ve been in here too long now; my party thinks I’m pooping for sure. Thank god I’m not; if I can hear them, could they hear that? Could they hear the stream? Do they know I’m still in possession of a healthy prostate? I’m not one to eavesdrop, I’d rather watch lips move and imagine the words. But the pull of this auditory wormhole is too great to resist. Give me a superpower and I’d always pick flying. I’m a watcher not a listener. I don’t listen half the time when people are talking to me. What’s the worst superpower? Reading minds, being inside people’s thoughts. The oddities that pass through my skull. The truths, the lies, the I-don’t-know-whys. I turn the knob and leave this bathroom.
Firetrucking Brickhead
When raised by sailors
who’ve never piloted a boat
there’s an art to colorful language
that must be taught
little ears have little mouths
and they tend to pick up on
the words we love to shout
That coffee table that stubbed your toe
It’s a motherfiretrucker
not the little Matchbox kind
the big ones that light up with sirens when you push them
That neighbor whose dog keeps shitting in your yard
he’s an ashhole
just make sure there’s a fire pit in his backyard
or you might want to go with brickhead
you know, because he has a retaining wall in his driveway
When you come home late from work
smelling of alcohol, blaming traffic
she knows you’re full of ship
all those tiny plastic boats filling your pockets
You’ll thank me one day for these parenting tips
when pushing a spoiled toddler in a shopping cart
down the toy aisle at Target
little fingers pointing as your head keeps shaking NO
and out of that sweet, innocent mouth screams
I want that, you firetrucker!
and all the fellow shoppers smile at you
and thank you for your obvious bravery
at being a first responder
They may even buy you a coffee
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