Our Loo Women Too Poem by James McLain

Where ever we go hope fully we find one their.
Those warm days driving and the air is filled
with last night's burbling from Jr.to deer.
May be no one is looking when we half fill the
small can at the convenience store.
Maybe at the pub with a bad bout of fish n' chips
runny not clear and we stop and give thanks
for the scribblings in the stalls left their.
I wonder often after reading the news on the wall
of the stall who was real.
Some obviously a tool or two shy of the shed
others dear.One from a lady claiming oysters of
fame made of silk and pearls textured of amaretto
so fine blew my mind.
Second thought why would a woman pay to use
the loo in the men's room.