April 9, 2013

i found a cookie in the men’s room | National Poetry Month

I found a cookie in the library men’s room.
It laid on a green paper napkin
on top of a urinal just under
the chrome flushy handle.

It was the kind of cookie
one eats at a reception
and snags a few extras on the way out.
That’s probably what happened.

Except it’s owner drank too many
free sodas poured from cans
into those tiny plastic cups packed with ice
that keeps drinks cool
but melts too quickly and dilutes the drink.

There must have been cheese and crackers
that caused him to drink an excess of soda
or maybe it was the fruit:
red seedless grapes, sliced strawberries,
cut fresh pineapple and multi-colored melons
that cause his over hydration.

Maybe the reception was for a retiring colleague,
perhaps the person who hired him.
And she urged him to take a few extra cookies
because “they’re all paid for”
and she didn't want them to go to waste.

Or perhaps he didn't like the person
and showed up to make sure the old bastard
saw his face one last time.
Perhaps he took the last cookie
knowing it was his nemesis’ favorite.

Maybe a student club was selling
cookies for a fundraiser
and our fine fellow bought one
to support the Queers and Allies
or the Muslim Student Association
or the dance team, who are not cheerleaders
even though they dance with pom-poms.

Whatever the reason, he set his cookie down
on top of a urinal in the library men’s room --
a decision he immediately regretted.

As I left, I almost threw it away
but I liked the thought of the next guy
standing at the urinal confused by a cookie.

I went back a moment later to take a picture to post to my Facebook page because my Facebook friends would “Like” the hell out of it. But when I came back with my phone, the cookie was gone. I looked in the trash and it wasn’t there.
So either the guy came back for it or someone else was like, “YES, I’LL HAVE A FREE COOKIE!”
Either way -- gross.