Winter Privy


This is a cold January day and I’m sitting in the privy 
at zero degrees contemplating my existence in this 
transitory cosmos; this hunk of rock we call our planet 
hurdling through space at dizzying break-neck speed going 
who knows where with the rest of this collective galaxy 
spinning as we go like the Daily Planet on top of 
Superman’s old office building.

I hold on to the toilet seat a little tighter.


 The privy is quiet this time of year

 insulated in snow
 deep-freeze environment
 snow blown in through
 the cracks by the door
 frozen shit 
 in a plastic bucket

 life size Bogart poster
 standing in the corner
 smoking the same cigarette
 he was smoking last summer

 a giant cardboard pickle
 frozen to the wall

 an Uncle Sam political pin -
 hatred feeds war
 breeds fear
 fuels hatred
 feeds war

 a ten dollar Buddha 
 from a flea market
 in Portland
 content in the cold

 A lit candle isn’t much of a heat source
 incense burning in the still air
 mingled with breath coming out of my mouth
 and the steam coming out of the hole

 actually this is not the best time of the year
 or the place for prolonged recollection
 you do what you came to do
 and get the hell out
 you have to think quick
 if you’re going to think at all

 seeing my own breath
 is a good sign
 it means that I’m warmer than
 most of the things in here

 Ahhh
 time to get this job done
 time to pull my pants up

 Ahhh
 the world awaits my grand entry


                         January 17, 1998