Pee like lightning
thunder close behind
cowboys and Indians
always a few drops
being left human
on the rim of the bowl
I’d wipe them
off and flush
if I were you
I’d conduct a pee
ceremony
the unauthorized
Zen of pissing
that type of now
a bell-like gravity
to the intermittent
stream of golden
thoughts marking
a certain consciousness
of the heart’s
necessary sweat
and grime.
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