Bathroom Inequity

Bathroom Inequality

Have you ever seen,
A woman’s commode?
The kind that is public - Not at your abode

It happened to me,
By accident one day.
I strolled right on in – to my surprise I must say.

I knew right away,
That something was amiss.
The floor wasn’t sticky – it didn’t smell like piss.

There was a couch and some chairs
And paint on the walls.
The air was perfumed – doors hung on the stalls.

I was there but a moment,
Yet got a look about.
Then women glared at me angrily – as I slowly backed out.

I located my bathroom,
It was four steps to the right.
As I entered the room – my sphincter shut up tight.

How could I go back,
Given where I had been.
From the bathroom of angels – to the devil’s trash bin.

It smelled worse than it looked,
Though I know not how that could be.
I took a cautious step in – and slipped on some pee.

I fell to my back,
And as I lay on the floor,
I could three stalls down – where there was poop on the door.

The worse part of all,
Were the sounds I could hear.
There were groans and some farts – And someone upchucking a beer.

With considerable effort,
I got unstuck from the floor.
I’d seen the unfairness – I couldn’t take it any more.

I marched back over,
To the room painted pink.
I dropped down my trousers – and took a dump in their sink.

Now I have time to consider,
How I will make bail.
Cause there ain’t nothing worse – than the toilets in jail