(Author note: in case any ladies were curious)
Everyday we meet
in our odd intercourse
I unzip and place my penis
into the porcelain opening
of the urinal
the most profound
compelling evidence of
how men are
systematically disconnected
from themselves.
As boys safe at home
we learn to do it
in comfort
solitude, safety
and privacy
--a first step toward
autonomy--
even smugly locking
the door behind us
but that all changes
when we go to school
and learn to line up
and pee in formation
and more importantly
we learn that to want
privacy and modesty
meant that you were a sissy
--no pun intended.
To be a boy
you just had to
do it
and hurry up because
there’s a line waiting
and any efforts done
with anything less than
a rapid economy of movement
will be taunted by
the braying robotic boys
eager to prove their own
self-alienation.
I’m 42
and I still have to play mental games
with myself
like count the tiles in front of me
or multiply fractions
just to distract myself long enough
to relax
and let my guard down
just to perform the most basic
of living processes
simple elimination.
The urinal remains
unmoved
fixed with a slack jawed
glassy eyed vacant stare
of indifference to my plight.
I dread anyone else
being in the men’s room
because just as with all things
male
it becomes a competition
or worse, a conquest
and worst of all
are the idiots who insist
upon talking to me while they
evacuate.
This is not the time for
male bonding
and I don’t wish to converse
during this most vulnerable moment.
So, to all you ladies
who think we’re lucky
and that the urinal is
such a great modern convenience,
I say
imagine how it would be
if you have to drop your guard
and lower your panties
and sit beside some anonymous female
and trade away your dignity
pretense or defense
just for the privilege
to pee.
As I look around this world
for more toilets with locking doors
and fewer urinals
I make my quiet protest
against the institutionalized
effort to disconnect me from
my body
I have put a wall between
my body and my self
long enough
so I will gladly wait for a stall
and give up my space at the urinal
to someone else
preferably a woman
who complains about long lines
she must endure the ladies’ room.
At least, you have stalls
with doors in there
waiting for you.
And I didn’t even mention
the backsplash.