Thursday, May 26, 2011

Back Up

Under a chill and fitful sun,
Past the parking strip trees
Being whipped by a spring wind:
I'm driving again.

In preparation for this foray,

In a discreet paper bag
I have carefully packed
An extra pair of pants
And underpants,
On top an absorbent pad,
And--just in case--an adult diaper.

The bag's on the backseat now,

Helping to keep my mind at ease.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

No Dignity

[Warning: Contains graphic images that some may find appalling.]

Bent at the waist,
With head on forearm and forearm
Hooked around the rim
Of the bathroom sink, I look down,
At my bare legs.

Above the knees I can see an expanse of
Tiny corrugations delicately wrinkling
The flaccid skin, and,
Never noticed before.

I have assumed this odd posture
Of rumination
In order to move along the gas
That gurgles and squeaks
Through my bowels.

Below me, a plastic tube coils up
From a frisbee-shaped bag--
A urine receptacle and newly-found companion.
The tube stretches
Into and through my urethra,
Connecting the bag on the floor directly
To my bladder.

Being as careful as I can not to
Stretch the incisions that run intermittently,
Like a blackened ragged rainbow,
Across my belly,
I slowly lower my buttocks
To the cold seat
Of the toilet.

I know from brief experience that
This action will strain the tube
Across my leg, painfully pulling
On the tender tip of my penis, so,
In order to give it more slack,
I will first lean forward to avoid stretching
The stitches in my stomach,
And then adjust the tube in a Velcro strap
That's pasted to my thigh.

I will sigh with relief,
And sit patiently above the porcelain bowl,
Making note of an umbilicaled
And bald baby bird
Perched lonely
In its nest of pubic hairs.

I will listen to a sputtering stream of farts, and
Will hope soon for some semblance
Of defecation.