You pumped your fist at me,
I understood the silent stare, the flush at
Starbucks wasn't working,
the handle was limp, other
option closed-down-rubber-mat-
folded-up-over-two-cardboard-boxes
tight, I remembered your serious face
as I pissed without looking,
no paper towels and I pushed
my hands under the faucet dripping,
wiped them on my pants and
kicked that door open, an old lady
caught my eye (next in line)
I passed it along darling,
don't worry
I pumped my fist and locked my sights
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