A Poem on Flushing
 

 

Why not flush?

Sheer laziness would wholly preclude the bathroom; the innocence of the lazy lacks the menace necessary for such an act regardless.

Perhaps a perverse pride prevents the disposal; a bond between creator and creation:

Perhaps the non-flushers save only their best, there being so many from which to choose.

And yet – to save and then never again gaze upon such a creation?

Pride cannot describe the obvious wish to share what is so offensive to so many:

Malice must play a role as well.

However, letting another push that handle seems a weak form of abuse: if one must attack a stranger in a bathroom, there are many better ways.

So, why not flush?

 

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Why flush?

There is no fine for refraining, no witness.

The total anonymity of the room ensures that the deed will go unpunished.

There is no detriment to oneself. Assuredly, another will have flushed by one’s next use.

Admittedly, it is no bother, but in that case, anyone may do it. Why do anything unsavory that one is not paid or forced to do?

On a bad day, does the thought that someone else is regarding one’s own creation with disgust not brighten the horizon?

Even such a small and occasional benefit completely necessitates this lack of action,

So why flush?