I quote an example of father and son

caught short on pavement patrol,

in a sort of urinary pact

with me knee high to a railing or two

descended by steps past sanitary tiles

to an urban subterranean loo.

 

Light flooded in

pee flooding out

a place of muted shared relief

a haven of water relieved of a spout.

 

Nothing was said as we stood at the troughs

an initiation by imitation

just the sounds of farts and coughs

and copious flushing

the hissing of fags

cast down the channel

the measured fastening of ponderous flies.

 

The master at arms

rising just at my side

adding to the yellow tide.

 

Then a surge of fresh air

as we rose to the street

with mother as background

not involved,

in a urinary sense

left out in the cold.