Steve Gripp - A Public Restroom

A hydrosphere of maritime malaise
on the counter; wasted bloody gauze from some
street war - waterlubed faucets.
The funk, the stench, ensconced in mildew around
bricklayered walls. A mechanical prison, temporary and sound.
Do I need to be reminded of my childhood? Shitstains on the
tile - a hygenic atrocity.

Steve Gripp

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-public-restroom/