Dictation Poem While Urinating
With one hand I hold down my briefs,
tinkle a perfect straight errotica uncle into the bowl
while with the other hand I carefully hold a Q-tip
remove the lid of a French porcelain toilette thingamajig
and place the Q-tip inside.
Some would say there is no poetry in this.
But I came to find.
Then I look and see George.
Nowadays George goes down our alleyway, sniffing.
George is a dog.