NOTHING WORKS FASTER <br /> <br />I am in <br />the process of <br /> <br />passing urine <br />into an urinal <br /> <br />at an Heathrow <br />Terminal <br /> <br />(never can go on planes) <br /> <br />when idly glancing <br />as I ease my bladder <br /> <br />(“For this relief...much thanks! ” <br />I quote Hamlet to myself) <br /> <br />My eye <br />is held <br /> <br />by a machine <br />clamped upon the wall <br />as if it had just climbed there <br />at the first tinkle of pee. <br /> <br />It is busy advertising <br />different textured flavoured <br /> <br />coloured condoms. <br /> <br />I smile <br />at the hard sell. <br /> <br />Obviously catering to <br />all possibilities <br /> <br />it <br />sells as well <br /> <br />(after all it is <br />a him & her world) <br /> <br />packets of <br />ANADIN. <br /> <br />He’s got a hard on... <br />she’s got a headache. <br /> <br />That’s the way <br />the money goes <br /> <br />pop goes <br />the weasel.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nothing-works-faster/
