The John

Door closes and intimacy opens,
when the perpetual tug of nature
mutely calls time for bodily functions,
to a moment of vanity candor.

Stripped of consideration of others,
privates’ openly displayed in sanctum
in which the welcome respite engenders
relief for both mind and dogged rectum.

No matter how distant from the simple,
a person each day must unadorned be
on throne of emperor’s new clothes’ temple,
where false is an impossibility.

After all, after all is said and done,
this fertile stench we cannot ever shun.