Beware of Limbo Dancers

Written with care
on the bathroom stall
Much more profound
than words penned on a wall
As I squat in the mists
of my mexican lunch
I'm at my most vulnerable,
pants down in a bunch
Paranoia creeps in,
I look left and right
The gray painted partitions
are all that's in sight
Am I in danger?
My mind doesn't know
Then faintly, through plumbing,
I hear calypso
It builds in it's timbre, the volume grows high
Then under the door
I hear a small cry
The scuffling of feet
then the tip of a toe
Before too much longer
a whole leg will show
His body, this dancer,
contorts like a twig
Bent backward grotesquely
in his gymnastic jig
By now, I see torso,
then shoulders appear
His arms flail like windsocks
Skilled balance without peer
The last of this human
comes under the door
Six inches to clear
from bottom to floor
His tightly wound face
tells the story of strain
Once done, he'll be spent
He can't do it again
With one final grunt
And a sigh of relief
He clears the six inches
and grins like a thief
He jumps with a start
as my person he's spied
I lean on my knees
and say soft, "Occupied."

Copyright 2000 Marty Gordon