On The Art of Peeing in the Shower

Try to have Mr. Winkie erect.
That way it's more like Old Faithful,
but watch out you don't squirt flotsam,
if you know what I mean.

Take aim at the shampoo caddy
and think about some uppity girl
who pissed you off when she wouldn't dance
with you at the Y ten years ago

or down at The Stumble In Bar & Grill,
even though Joe, your latest best friend,
said Hillary wanted to buy you a beer,

speaking of which, it's best to drown
a couple of brewskis before the tub,
if you want to see some yellow.

And don't have asparagus for supper
because it smells like sulfur
and a little like Brad, that hedge fund guy
always humming "I Gotta Be Me"

down at the gym in the locker room
who likes to strut his stuff buck naked,
and I'm not talking five o'clock shadow,
if you know what I mean.

Joe just phoned and told me Hillary's
having peppermint schnapps with Brad.
Well, piss on him too.
I think I'll have another beer,

take a hot bath instead,
and laugh my bubbly ass off.
Joe says he thinks Hillary's queer.