Think of urinating in blank unpeopled streets, <br />silent, late at midnight. <br /> <br />Not a single soul. <br />Your will directs you to <br />unzip and ease yourself. <br /> <br />I made the street corners wet, late at nights. <br />A land without lavatories is a open loo. <br /> <br />'Wetting' the street in Maargazhi mornings <br />is sheer pleasure. <br />It is subjective. <br /> <br />(Come to my town, <br />I will take you <br />on a night tour <br />in the partially – lit lanes.) <br /> <br />I repeat, 'Some pleasures are subjectively felt.' <br /> <br />It eases my urethra, <br />True sensation of relief. <br />I swear it is to heart's contentment. <br /> <br />Peeing is easier with dhoti dress. <br />(I know it personally) <br /> <br />The pitch dark ditch <br />filled with banana peels, egg shells, <br />disposed cigarette cases, <br />the mark of a social decay. <br /> <br />Lifting my dhoti, <br />I ease out a steaming stream, <br />clear as clinical distilled water, <br />hot as fresh, brewed coffee. <br /> <br />The pleasure of relief is inexplicable. <br />I say, the feeling is subjective.<br /><br />Ramesh Iyengar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-ode-on-urination/
