Public toilet poem

Five stalls to view and to compare
To see if there was paper there,
And if the seats were fairly dry
So’s not to dampen upper thigh.

He chose his booth, both dry and neat
And placed some paper on the seat
To stop transference to his bum
Of germs from almost anyone.

More paper went within the hole
-Avoiding splash-back was his goal.
He dropped his pants and squared his ring
Above the bowl to do his thing.

A state of mind has to be reached
For his bum cheeks to be breeched.
He took deep breaths and sat quite steady,
Braced himself, was almost ready….

When….

The stall next door erupted in
A wet, vibrating, stinking din.
A pebbledasher couldn’t wish
To reproduce a sound like this.

Our hero blanched, the moment gone,
His poo retreated up his bum.
The smell encroached into his stall
Inducing him to faint and fall.

He smacked his head against the door
And ended up upon the floor
Next to paper badly thrown
In puddled piss, not his own.

The moral of this story is:
No worries if you need a whiz,
But if you need to take a shit
There’s really no avoiding it -

Evacuate your bowels at home
At least when there, you are alone.