by Walter Bjorkman
19 seventy and somethin’ early, Phin rode into town
Walt was doin’ somethin’ crazy, but couldn’t let his friends down
Phin and Little Nancy came by for a stay
Barely room for himself in his pantry bedroom – no way
With no room for Walt’s Brooklyn friends at the inn
Nacimiento woods their only away in a manger option
Walt can’t remember how they got there or back to the stoop
But here is this inspirational story’s poop:
Pitched tent in a cathedral of three redwoods with no sway
With a natural bed of pine needles and an inviting portway
Then cooked up somethin’ like beans in a pot
What was it they downed before, during and after? – we forgot
Boy Scout training kicked in in the back of his mind
25 yards at least from camp to do your after-meal slime
No Scott’s tissue to mar the pristine land
Just use nature’s tools – a leaf, whatever’s at hand
Sunset coming upon them like a fog
Walt did it sitting over a log
Then down to the riverbank on this starry starry night
Phin, Little Nancy, and Walt, with no fright
No moon was there to block the view
Of distant galaxies and constellations running askew
Heads gazing up and tripping out
Minds realizing there is nothing about which to pout
Time to get back into their sheltered haven
They turned into the total blackness of the forest’s heaven
For minutes that seemed hours they were lost from their mission
What to do? they couldn’t even see each other’s visage
“I have twelve strike-anywheres!” Walt exclaimed with delight
“We will go our ways through the underbrush and yell to each other of our plight
Then light one up to show position and help the others look
We will find it sooner or later” – it was only a short jaunt from the brook
Desperation set in as the matches did dwindle
Were they doomed to sleep in a huddle and get swindled
By the biting insects and snakes of this legendary land?
Please, some divine inspiration come down and give this threesome a hand
Further apart they roamed to find the tent
Things were getting crucial, frustrations no longer pent
When all of a sudden instead of briars and brush
In which his bare feet got entangled, in his slow rush
A soft-slimy pile enveloped Walt’s toes
Like a vision from heaven, his mind got the news
“Yo! Phin, Yo! Little Nancy, Walt know just where we be!
Walt is where Walt went when Walt had to do more than pee”
“The safe-haven is just twenty five yards yonder
Use your last matches to not wander asunder”
They all reached camp and tumbled into their tent
Then related to each other about where they all went
So in the end it is not about why you got to where
But to have faith in yourself – your own shit will get you there.
Collected Poop Stories 