Justin Karcher continues his poetic journey through the theater season.
The Tenderness You Can Find in a Public Bathroom
By Justin Karcher
A few years ago
at a New Year’s Eve party
I was at a bar
and punched a hole
in the bathroom wall
I drank too much
but also loathed
the sound
of my heartbeat
there was someone else
in the bathroom
a stranger
who wrapped my broken hand
in paper towels
who told me
everything would be okay
who brought me into the New Year
but I never got his name
the tenderness
you can find
in a public bathroom
I guess I feel freer
in public bathrooms
maybe it’s the architecture
of vulnerability
how you’re out in the world
but not
a tiny space
where you hope
you can be saved
sometimes, the world
seems too big
for your issues
doesn’t take much
for them to be swallowed up
sometimes your heart
needs the smallness
to explore how big it can be
how it’s really larger than the outside
public bathrooms
are the best for that
for figuring out where you belong
porcelain democracies
where we all waste away
a level playing field
existing for one reason:
release
in whatever way you need
a release from your body
all that heaviness
a release from your job
all that stress
a release from your family
all that disappointment
a release from the government
all that silence
and violence
someplace
you can be
vulnerable
but in the back of your mind
you’re always thinking
“I want to share this loneliness
with anyone”
sometimes, you get lucky
another person in there
having a bad day too
and staring at the mirror
the same mirror you’ve been staring at
the sigh of their breath
mixing with whatever’s left of yours
painting the mirror with desires
we all keep bottled away
there’s silence, but sincere eye contact
you imagine
a soft fog rising from a urinal
little ships swimming out of a toilet
little shirtless sailors singing songs
about freedom
about being yourself
about letting go
the stranger will flush
but it’s not just a flush
they’re trying to release
all the sad they feel
just cuz they don’t say anything
doesn’t mean it’s not there
the one thing
we all have in common
is wanting to be loved
for who we really are
for all our faults
for the holes we punch into walls
that’s how you start a revolution
recognizing that we at least
have one thing in common
and I imagine a world
where urinals have detached themselves
from their public prisons
and are floating down streets at night
how they hover next to you
and start flushing
suddenly, whatever’s holding you back
fades away
and you feel loved
you want to kiss the world
you want to hug a stranger
you want to float
you want to wrap up
other people’s brokenness
and you’ll fight to preserve this tenderness
this love