I feel as if I could write a poem,
about all the different places
men can do it. Now in Paris,
gaily-painted red urinals
along the Seine right out
in the open. Just straighten up
and let fly I guess. As if
men can't control them-
selves better than women.
Paul Blackburn wrote 'Peeing
All Over the Peninsula'
and William Matthews wrote
'Pissing Off the Back of the Boat
into the Nivernais Canal.'
I feel as if I should dignify
my pissing with my own poem,
but the truth is I've never
pissed anywhere exciting,
unless it's been off the tailgate
of a slow-moving truck,
or fifty yards behind a tree
so as not to ruin the stand
with my scent or in an alley
behind a strip club in the Combat
Zone once in the freezing cold AM,
but those aren't exotic locales.
I'm unembarrassed to admit them
but once there was this woman
who held me in her hand while
I did it in a bathroom; I think
she is worth a poem but I'll think
hard and long before I write it.
Rusty Barnes grew up in rural northern Appalachia, and now lives in Revere MA with his family. His work has appeared widely, most recently in Plumb, FRiGG, Ginosko Review and BEAT to a PULP. Poems are forthcoming in Common Ground Review and Street Value. His latest book of poetry is Jesus in the Ghost Room and his latest novel is called The Last Danger.