POEM - The Water Closet

Went to the new modern art museum

It had just opened and there were Calders

Even a couple of Warhol pieces

            Not the famous stuff

                        Some floating Mylar balloons he’d thought of

            Floating around a room aimlessly

The failing movie theater had converted

Reborn into a space for art to breathe

A new creature created by the new master

The architect had become a local star

This was his latest in a string of hits

I knew who he was from the library downtown

And because I had met his nemesis

I was delivering furniture to an amazing house

Tucked back in the Ahwatukee foothills

Looked almost like his stuff, but rounder

When we entered the second story bedroom

We were told to not worry

            The floor would hold us

The hallway floor was clear glass

            Butted up against a clear glass wall

Looking over the living room 20 feet below

I asked clumsily if this was a Bruder

The guy hung his head and shook

Like a prize fighter who is still standing

After a devastating right hook

"No man, it's mine! I designed this!"

I knew it wasn't quite Bruder’s style

Similar, but. Like I said, rounder

I told the story to my uncle

He's an architect too

He designed our house in Tucson

We were at the new museum

Discussing the art work and the building

I said "It's nice, but you know what was great?"

Without a pause he answered

"Yes, it was the restroom. Wasn't it great?"

That’s exactly right

The restroom was amazing

            Simplistic, architectural and masculine

Then he told me the thing,

The secret I thought only I knew

"You can really tell how good the architect is

by how cool the restrooms are.”