I don't go outside or to the vending machine.
Instead I head for the first floor loo
for a whimsical wee or a ponderous poo.
Sometimes I don't even need to go
but the cubicle leads to the safest haven;
a heavenly hideout for 10 minutes or so,
a chance to reflect as time ticks by.
Relief is a gift so I don't know why
comfort is so unappreciated.
Our bottom halves are ripe for laughs
but not when constantly constipated.
The spreadsheet asks me where I've been,
as toilet is not on the dropdown menu.
So it's time to flush my thoughts for now;
my body may be soggy but my mind is clean.
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