It’s sort of like walking my dog
while I wait for him to take a leak,
except I need some privacy
when I must deal with urgency.
Every road sign that says: “No Passing,”
starts to look like “No Pissing.”
I’m careful to avoid touching dandelions—
those Pissabeds are not my friends.
When I have to go, I have to go now!
Every bush or alleyway looks inviting.
I wonder where I passed a construction site
with a port-o-potty?
Lordy, Lordy, I can’t hold it in, and I have to let it go—
peeing in my pants for the first time since I was a kid,
when my older brother, too absorbed in viewing tools
in a hardware store, could not heed my warning.