Sunday Stool

The after-poop poops are like letting out drawstring.

If the first poop were cake, this one's the frosting.

Why are cramps like a cheetah in the lurch.

And wait to pounce at inopportune moments, like at church.

Those bathrooms are as old as the building itself.

Each noise that you make chimes loud like an elf.

If only the first poop could have lasted a bit longer.

Because the side eye you're getting from the congregation couldn't be any stronger.