Poetic Poopers

You sit in a bathroom stall, and you expect privacy. The type of privacy that should not, would not be invaded. A publicbathroom, passably clean but far from perfect. It is occupied by women and girls before, all with the same expectation that the small, interlocking metal device halfway up the door and covered with the excrement germs of occupants before them, soon to add their own to the mixture of….. never mind. For this very reason keeps many of those who would be undesired away for this very private deed. There are many precautions for privacy in a washroom. First, to keep the boys away, there is the "ladies" sign, an unspoken barrier that admits only those in possession of feminine charms - and those who are inspired by some unknown force and manages to sneak in to no apparent purpose, despite their lack of proper equipment. Second, there are the stalls themselves normally metal or wood blockades, standing tall and true, forcibly keeping prying eyes from the not so secrets within. Last and what seems to be the most formidable measurepreventing offense is the lock, Slide-bolts, turn-keys, actual lock and key, push-knobs that make the same, scratching, squeaking noises always associated with the closing and lockof the heavy door. The lock is master and is the force of supremacy, the public washroom its kingdom to rule with a stainless steel fist. But no matter the protection offered by the locks, the stalls, the sign...they can still reach you. They can invade your privacy, shove their corrupt ideas down your throat and force there ideas and feelings upon you. You cannot run, you cannot possibly hope to hide. They can reach you no matter hohard you shut your eyes. With barely clear writing, some lonely,pining female has etched her love. "I luv matt he is HOTT!!" The intrusion of written communication is achieved with lack of grammatical accuracy, and they, the giant populous of the world,has made its way into your bathroom stall of divinity and poisoned it! All in the name of undying or true love! Alonthis rather uncalled for confession, is a caring, helpful responseto the glamerous girl; "No he’s not he’s ugly, you dike!" Written, perhaps, in hope that the original love struck starry eyed girl would one day read this new stall post on Matt and act accordingly. Yes, such is the invasion of bathroom stall graffiti. Unknown authors sharing opinions, confessions, poems of varying amusement and any manners of written communicationwhere you would think one would be left in peace to do one’s business. Never would you assume a person to be so bold or such a thing could exist in such a private place! This telling of heart secrets, such an affection for stall-door dialogue reachesover all possible dignity of the stall occupant to scream in bold, misspelled words the inside of the previous occupant’s minmultitudes of "Lisa is a jackass who can’t fight..." or "I love Tommy" and other such dribble is the works of boorish amatThe real artists of bathroom graffiti are hidden, compelled bysome unordinary vision to scratch out a message to those come after. A rhythm, a rhyme and a poem. To the average person, such a poem would mean only the very limited in poeticachievement. But to those that write the poem, it is a major effort to leave a lasting impression, such as this one, in such a public domain. It takes a bold person to put their writer withinout on such an insecure limb. So many reading and critiquyour work, especially after having their privacy invaded by yforced poem! Next time you sit in a passably clean bathroom stall, sign passed, lock shut, think while relieving yourself, doyou have something to say to the world worth writing on a bathroom stall or something that can maybe leave a lasting impression? Could it make someone think deeply enough that theinvasion of privacy is forgotten? Or are you going to hide it on paper?