olderish performance piece about poo

"Mornings he sings on the toilet. You can imagine the joie de vivre this man enjoys. The urge to sing bubbles up like a reflex. These songs of his, which have no melody or words, nothing but 'ta-ra-ra,' which he belts out in a variety of styles, go something like this:

'How sweet my life is...ta-ra! ta-ra... my bowels are flexing...ra-ta-ta-ta-ra-ri...the juices are flowing just right, straight through...ra-ti-ta-doo-da-ta...squeeze, bowels, squeeze...tram-bam-bam-noom!' " -Yuri Olesha, Envy

i have lived
with a beast
not canis noir lupus
arachnus or mustelid
but a living, wheezing
human beast

I have shared an Andersonville three bedroom
with four women
four men
and
one
human
beast
whose precision mucous
sought the soles
of bare feet
and who daily
crusted bands around the tub
so foul'
and so black'
they seemed to disprove the very existence
of a soul

where he shat...
i shat

i
know
fear

that was
two and a half years apartments ago
i am reborn
so long as we aren't boarding charity cases
or finding ourselves blessed with overnight visitors
our toilet houses three
maximum occupancy!

i have studied their habits
Tania goes before work
Kyle goes after work
Nate...
goes before AND after work
it is the only time you will ever hear me refer to that great and odd man
'regular'
the frog
may he rest in peace
having a keen eye
waited for company to come over
in high cockblocking protest fashion

the excretory functions of both the tarantula and my beloved girlfriend
remain a mystery to me

I

wait til everyone has gone to bed and
have myself a-time
pull out newspaper
aping my old man

I
have
become
a
beast

meditteranean hairs
shedding
tissues palmed
wiping sprayed tiles
allowing threesomes i was uninvited to
to collapse
entire toilets
and trust

I am fear