He shares

I oncet drew a pitcher: "The hand that shares, cares."
And grapsing, clutching, a fistful of hairs; These are all themes included.

Sharing "Testiculate," and consequently implying the oblong nature of shape, of life, of the pairing of minutiae.

The epic brown, now that sounds like a cult movie.
And the cold, windy, winter (windher) has come at last.

Surprise. Stuck in a snow storm.
It isn't much, but more than best handled at night.
Still, everything is much smaller in the west, comparatively.
Becoming stranded, impossible, where once every turn is an old fence, or dwelling.
But here, perhaps no one has ever stood.

I am the first to pee.
Encountering a note; "Meet here, 7:15 pm, for a blowjob."
And the talkative man who came into the bathroom like a scene in a movie,
Right on cue.

I've got to get going.
Strange, Sad.
Me, a filthy person really, I wouldn't touch half the things in that bathroom,
or let someone touch half my thing in that bathroom.

Was he fishing?
All night he waits,
Updates his note at the for the appropriate times.
A new scrap of paper, 7:15, then 7:45, then 8:10?
Perhaps he recycles
his tax returns
and his receipts.

He saves the slips,
and uses them again.