Short Potties Poems

Canada, land of good 
manners, polite people
until we lose the Cup
and angry crowds of testosterone
go wild 
burn cars and porta-potties
hurl bottles, bricks, 
street signs and threats 
at lines of riot masks
and batons ready 
for adrenaline 
almost as high 
as that elusive win...

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Barbara
Funny, empathetic, introspective and shy
Daughter of Dick and Mollie
Lover of babies, music and ice cream
Saddened by abuse, disabilities and hunger
Afraid of snakes, porta- potties and a lingering death
Would love to see Paris, Rebirth of a strong America and my parents once more
Live in the Golden State, California
Gorelick...

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Oh Menards how I hate thee
Every time I go to your store and see
Nothing but anger ignites in my body
Something about the for sale port-a-potties 
Or maybe it’s you rclerks
How they always give me such a smirk
Possibly that you don’t sell Diet Pepsi by liter
Oh how my teeth teeter
Your store really angers me 
Oh so depressingly 
Change it up maybe sell some fun
I guarantee others feel this and I’m not the only one...

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Stopped at an Oktoberfest
Just to catch the scene -
Big steins of beer, a German band,
Appropriate cuisine.

Some lederhosen wearers
Did compete at beanbag toss,
Then swigged their pilsners cheerfully
With every win or loss.

The port-a-potties waited
With a needed job to fill,
For after every jumbo stein,
I guess you know the drill.

We only stayed a while
On this bright day in Oktober
For I think it would be much more fun
To patrons not quite sober....

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