“The American Pioneer” by Duke Gatsos

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I sneak off street side to pee
on the way home from Al’s.
Folks at the poetry reading would like that
I walk to be environmental,
I would never announce such piety
saving exhaust and gasoline.
Note to other green aspirers:
ask your bladder to handle it
before leaving the bar,
particularly after dreamy dark IPAs.

My fingers fumble with the zipper as soon as I spy
a perfect pee spot in the city where
I am so original
two buildings meet in a dingy corner.
I am appropriately asinine to pee in public
I just can’t fucking hold it anymore
but not capably crass to spray it
all over Limestone.
My first arrest won’t be for public peeing.

Staring ahead
I see law offices, not apartments.
darkened windows will stay dormant
Ferns grow in the mossy corner,
ivy crawls up the brick
like approaching wetness creeping through my urethra.
Before I let it fly,
a familiar pungent scent hits my nose
damn, someone was here already.

-Duke Gatsos

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