“Cruisin’ for a Bruisin'” by Robert Siek

Never got all George Michael in a public bathroom,
the guy next door too close, praying mantis untouchable,
ambush predator eyeing out in the open, actions showing
a urinal who’s boss, the wait to ruin it all, allow King Midas
minutes to liquefy, hose white walls with turn everything
to gold, someone ate asparagus, lousy riches,
the presence tap, tap, tapping,
pulling on what changes colors
out the corner of the eye,
waiting because too pee shy,
stuck-in-plumbing panic attack,
self-inflicted beatings, balled fists
pulverizing forehead, closed eyelids,
hundred lashes for the lack of sin,
failed big-time pig bottom,
drown face-first in the nearest toilet,
clean water preferable, gulp air between flushes,
like this is how to get rid of hiccups. Come now officer,
the handcuffs are needed, leather chaps prance
heavy, breathing, aching for hairy thighs,
to be alive, reanimated and ass out,
pop a boner, bull bang public,
praying-mantis arms hook tight, bruise
shoulders, male horns gore insides swollen,
a chance to be arrested before piss makes
an appearance, claw for gold foil, the kind
condoms come in, Midas’s favorite, his PrEP pills
turned, royal flush, the age of exploration, bend over
buddy, open and bleeding, a first for everyone, like please
not the handcuffs, photos on the cover of a magazine,
an asshole spitting evidence, decorates tiles
in sugarless gobs, chewed gum.
“What’s your definition of dirty baby.”
This bathroom is difficult to breathe in.


Robert Siek is the author of the poetry collections Purpose and Devil Piss and We Go Seasonal, both published by Sibling Rivalry Press. He lives in Brooklyn and works at a large publishing house in Manhattan.