So I’m there in elementary school
in the bathroom
at the urinal.
I’m standing there, finishing up,
zipping up, and walking away
and the janitor – who hopefully isn’t perving
as he watches me –
says, “You didn’t flush.”

I stop in my tracks. “That’s right.”
“Go flush the toilet,” he says.
“We’re in a drought, I respond,
“Not supposed to flush for pee in a drought.”

We’re probably supposed to respect adults,
but this is the Upper West Side of Manhattan,
and I’m a snotty white eleven-year-old who knows everything
and anyway, I’m right.
We shouldn’t be wasting water.
The janitor takes me to the vice principal.

“We’re in a drought,” I say, “We shouldn’t be flushing for pee.”
Mister Peck looks at me with kind eyes
and says, “I understand, Jonathan, but if nobody flushes the urinal,
then it permanently stains, and Mister Urquat’s job gets much harder.”
That was a side of the issue no one had mentioned
but has nothing to do with what I’m saying.
“So please flush the toilet from now on, all right?”
I don’t respond, but get up to go back to class.

I continue to piss as I see fit
– but I’d try not to stain shit – or piss – anywhere.
No need to make anyone’s job harder.