An Ode to Potty Breaks at Dinnertime

An Ode to Potty Breaks at Dinnertime

Hungry, empty, ravenous, am I. 

My burger untouched—not even one fry. 

You need to go again? Can’t it wait till later?

“Stop refilling their waters!” I beseech the waiter. 

Alas, this time we go to clean 

spaghetti sauce off your face, hands, and jeans. 

My muffins, I beg of these table breaks to cease, 

So that I may eat just ONE bite in peace. 

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