Written in a Gas Station Bathroom

Once the man with the loud grunts

has left (hands unwashed, but oh well)

there is an extraordinary quiet

from the stillness of the sink, unused

and the closing of the door, leaving

an uneasy standoff

between myself

and this haggard room of

clogged toilets and mystery stains

until outside,

the thunder booms, the rain falls

pressing through the hole in the roof

as we both begin to leak