Late Night With CosmicPal
 

I've been cleaning out my den and having a couple of drinks when I found this old diatribe of a poem I wrote many years ago.

(At the time, I was a Charles Bukowki fan, and this was my attempt to emulate him):

Flush

“Here I sit all broken-hearted.
I came to shit, but hardly farted.”

I found this stamped in a faded black marker
on the stall door

“Here I sit all broken-hearted.
I came to shit, but hardly farted.”

I continued to read it over and over again.

“Here I sit…”
“….came to shit.”

It was the only thing to read other than Holly’s phone number and how some dude promised future shitters like me that she would give us a good time

“…broken-hearted”
“…hardly farted.”

It’s over
I’m through with the reading of bathroom stink poetry
I pull up my trousers
and flush

I didn’t shit
I didn’t fart
I was too goddamn drunk to stand up and pee.

Someone's had more than, "a couple of drinks."

Okay, you got me.

Composition and theme tightly connected: Both are shit. Congrats! :D

You crazy mother****er.

Well...uhhh...thank you. :D

"Don't throw cigarette butts in our toliets. We don't sh*t in your ash trays."