An Ode to the Diesel Bathrooms
Your door, always ajar
Beckoning me into your fluorescent fold
Mirror reflecting the purple hue of an obsidian space
I take out my phone, snap a picture, capturing a moment
When my bone structure looks great, but also I felt held
You’ve been there in times of need
When my stomach and I disagreed after eating cheese for the first time in years
When I was dumped under the schematic of a diesel engine
You always provided a selection of Select bathroom tissue
To dry my tears
And to wipe soap off the sink from the person before me
You’ve been there in times of anxiety
When Honk just honked one honk too many
When the imminent judgement of a stranger awaited me on Elm
With the lock of that sticker covered door
Was a sanctuary, free of scrutiny, bereft of sound
Rich with the scent of others before me
I lean against the metal pipe fence
Others agitated, but I am calmed by the knowledge
That the wait for you is always worth it
You can knock all you want, stranger,
I’m going to be in here for a minute
Diesel Love Stories 