So John (not that John. Another John)was just talking about being at the end of the train station
near the omnipresent Do Not Enter sign
that is really more of an invitation
than a threat
and he waxed poetic
as Johns do
about seeing someone sneak in
before his train came
and he rolled away.

And all of that reminded me
of one time back when I was riding the municipal rails
waiting at the end of a lonely subway stop
intestinally unsteady
wondering how long I could hold in this load
I had within
and where and how
I could, if necessary,
let loose.

Do Not Enter
read even more like an invitation
than before.
No one was looking
and no train was coming
so I stole past the sign
but only just steps.
I didn’t need to plumb the secrets of the train station;
I just wanted a hidey hole.

I lowered my pants
and I held onto the railing
and I pooped onto the tracks.

Thus blew out of me
geyser powered discharge
and I didn’t have to hold the position long.
Certainly, I didn’t want to.
I was vulnerable.
So I picked up my pants
and I walked into the light
and everything felt brighter
and righter
and the trip home was a lot more comfortable
if perhaps slightly smelly.

This is not my proudest moment
and yet this is not my greatest shame either.
There is industry in this tale
and an ability to get something done
in trying conditions.

While not a story I’d put on my CV
I think it still speaks well of me.
I did what I must, yet still kept free.
That’s how all legends should be.