Imperforate pillars and marble columns
of classical antiquity have failed to capture
the simple dignity of biological routine


how often have I pointed my dick
toward the white and shining urinals
of this declining world,

released a half-pint of urine
into the municipal waste system
while abiding congenially
in a state of total mental vacuity,

then squeezed a few terminating
droplets from the wrinkly
zoom-capable appendage,

and, ignoring a tiny rat-squeak
of male sexuality, restored
the ivory shaft to its baggy
place of concealment

before returning to the more urgent
arenas of human discourse

 

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