Peeing In The Sink Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

With heavy heart I do admit
I pee (but never ever shit)
into the sink, but just at home.
Occasionally I hit the comb
and once, the toothbrush got a sprinkle.

My spouse, she hates it when I tinkle
not in the gadget called a throne
I do it only when alone
and, let me tell you why she fumes
no wild contortions she assumes
she simply cannot reach that height
though once I saw her when she tried.

I did suggest she use a tube
or stand on a large Rubik's cube
but even pressed against the ledge
what's missing was the leading edge!
Now I would never use my tassle
in such a way in someone's castle.

You see, the sink drains into metal
an S-shaped pipe unlike a kettle,
and even half a litre will
not be sufficient here to fill
the lower vertical completely.
Thus, it would sit in there and neatly
release its aromatic fumes
into the hallway and the rooms.

Unless one runs the tap for thirty
or forty seconds, it stays dirty,
and then there is that yellow stain
which shows against the white so plain.

Suspicion grows inside a host
when peeing ought to take at most
a couple minutes and no more....
perhaps he'll listen through the door!

I have, on very rare occasions
used sinks in houses of Caucasians,
but due to my advancing years
and after one too many beers.

I usually just sit and nibble
on snacks but later on a dribble
released by order of a gland
it's the residual, understand (?) ,

keeps coming, taking its sweet time
in men who've lived beyond their prime.
I hope you all have understood
why women would, well...if they could

and men would aim a little higher
(he who denies it is a liar) .
You see we Krauts are fond of saying
there is no use in hoping, praying......

no shaking, tapping, squeezing, willing
can keep the final dropp from spilling.