BTT #66: Micturition






There was that time

After support group

I had to stop at

Target and I was

Dressed feminine but

I wasn’t out and was

Just starting to look a

Little bit like a girl

And I felt good I

Had the courage to

Be out at the store

But then I had to

Pee and it was like

Not something that could

Wait but I had to primp

And cross and flinch

And I was terrified

So I went back to

The family restroom

By the pharmacy and

It was locked and I asked

The guy at the counter

Who looked up absently

But it was not his

Deal and I had to find

The night manager all

The long way up at

The front who said

They had lost the key

So I asked if I

Would get arrested if I

Used the ladie’s room

And he looked at me blankly

And said I could use

Whichever and thank God

Because I barely made

It and it was such

A sweet relief even though

The place was just stark and

White and bare and

Smelled disappointingly just

Like every men’s room I

Had ever pissed in so

At least though

There was that time

When my friend was

At the other big

Box store down the

Road and she had

To go and her

Shoulders are more

Broad and she has less

Hair and she is taller

But she has a gorgeous

Rack and a take no

Prisoners smile and

Attitude but she was

Stopped by some big

Hairy-leg in a yellow vest

From going where she needed

To go and it all just

Flowed down her leg

And wet her dress and the

Piss and her

Tears formed a large

Puddle on the floor

And she just pushed out

Of that place and wrote

A letter full of just

Wanting to burn them

To the ground about

That flood and they

Apologized but with

Some attenuated circumspection

But at least

There was that time

All this week

Our whole valley is

Flooding and some

Can’t even get to work

Let alone piss comfortably

And Bjorn says

There is no snow

In freaking Sweden

This winter and

Still I have to

Drive and shop and

Consume warmly like

Everyone else here

In my inland

Home so the beach

Might be closer

Even though it

Would be a nightmare

Of all those places

And dreams covered

In puddles but none

Of us feel urgency

But at least we

Might Remember

Giving a damn once

So at least

There was that time.


-Lona Gynt,  February 2020


This is written in response to Amaya’s prompt at dVerse “Meeting the Bar: Death Sentence.”  the prompt has four rules.


  1.  It has to be one sentence, even if it is a long run-on sentence
  2. The poem must explore the theme of ‘the end of civilization as we know it.’
  3. the story must tell of an odd or embarrassing incident, either heard about, witnessed, or autobiographical.
  4. The poem must be improvised.  ie: written in one setting and not edited.  I wrote this poem in 7 minutes and is unchanged except for spelling.


Here is the link to Amaya’s prompt:


MTB: The Death Sentence


Amaya’s prompt was itself inspired by Michael Simm’s  post on “Vox Populi” where he gave ten poems, all written within the parameters outlined above in less than an hour.  It is phenomenal.  Thank you Amaya for showing us this.  Here is the post to Simm’s poems.


Michael Simms: The end of civilization as we know it


All rights for text and pictures on this post to Lona Gynt, February 2020

Flint River

21 thoughts on “BTT #66: Micturition

    1. It is sobering, but Hope is my middle name, maybe we can still do something. I had decades of hopelessness about my life, and that got better once I stopped suppressing the truth, maybe the collective humanity can get there too.


  1. Standing ovation, no pun intended but i have to inappropriately chuckle a little bit finding a lot of black humor in this lovers day when I cried at my daughter’s school after teaching the kindergarteners Día del amor y la amistad, a song of love and friendship and realizing the irony in me, one with so little of both, to be the one strumming away on the old guitar like I was still a child myself and what I sang were true but I know you’ll find some humor in it all too as the best of friends always do and the best of the best know there there essentially is no difference between joy and sorrow but just the two lines of the narrow path.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Joy and sorrow are two lines on the narrow path, indeed, this is true, and these lines intertwine, constantly, how can one be grasped or even insinuated without the other? I love the humor through all of this, and the smiles, the chaos, and the peace, it is all so messed up all the time, I can find comfort in the fact that I think it was supposed to be that way, otherwise we would never know or feel that love that is just,


      Did you see Grace’s Quadrille on Monday? Reminded me of “Diminish” somehow. I like how both of our improvisations pull expectation management into the soup wryly:

      “At least I have that.”
      “At least though
      There was that time”

      What is that central tenet, that will hold and stop the unraveling, more and more I realize it is not most of the crap we put up with. But why not teach those children to sing? It is funny, and Wonder-full. They just don’t know the extent. Why not freeze tears into an icy snowman smile to delight a child? These things give me hope, maybe civilization is mostly pretend except for the least of these anyways? I don’t know. I think I might be losing patients. 💕 you my friend.


  2. I know now as friends in transition are mindful of my lack of understanding, it is clearly a painful journey (not because of the decision but because of people)not one taken lightly, and I hear the pain in this, thank you for sharing this.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You are welcome, and thank you my friend. Life is a hilarious wonderful painful maze, I love it, like an escape room game. The point at which the pain of transitioning starts to become more apparent to the outside world is when it often is already so much better for those of us going through it because we have found ourselves, even if we are sometimes made to wet ourselves, it is still better. I always look forward to your kind words my friend

      Liked by 1 person

  3. It’s sad when we have to put those “times” on a little pedestal to counterbalance the obvious injustices that happen between. I felt the improvisational quality as you naturally told your story…and spoke your truth. It was a perfect flow….oh now that was a pun!

    Liked by 1 person

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