Just outside the unfinished entry.
Stood a chubby porta- potty.
Painted a nontoxic baby blue.

With promises of relief,
It tried to lure me into its dank interior.

Forget the sweet-talk.
I refuse.

Cross my fingers.
Cross my legs.
I won't step through your plastic door.

I've done it before
And, frankly.
It stinks.

(Nothing says home, like a porta-potty outside your front door.

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