The world so often surprises me. Just yesterday,
I went to piss at a Panera Bread, did it
the usual way: polite knock on the door;
locked it behind me, relieved;
washed my hands in the too cold water
by the soap thing that never works right
while the urinal flushed itself, a cake of disinfectant
eroding at the bottom.
Wash vigorously–used to work
at a hospital, you know–
so I had time to look around,
really take it in while my hands froze.
Paper towels where you should grasp firmly,
two hands, not one, and pull straight down,
but if it’s an emergency, I guess
you’re supposed to turn this wheel.
I thought, “Huh, emergency feed. When
do we need towels so bad?
Is everything such a damned rush
that we can’t just use two hands,
grasp firmly, pull? Follow the damn
pictures they made so even chinks
can do it?” I pulled, two hands,