A short poem about my frustration with people at the truck stop I work at.
Restrooms!
Excuse me, can you tell me
where the restrooms are at?
I just point, glaring.
Number 24 today.
Why are they restrooms
when you just piss
and shit
yourself into oblivion?
Restrooms!
All day they walk by
crossed legs,
short steps,
hurried feet,
going to the
Restroom!
Where is the
restroom at?
Go and find it yourself.
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