Madonna Poops Poems

Madonna Poops Poems

I wrote this Madonna Poops about a month or so ago. I don't why, but it's one of my favorites...and I don't usually like the poems I write very much. This one is just so silly...but I like it like that.

Madonna Poops

and so do you.
There you are with a newspaper
clutched under your armpit,
a cup of coffee, a crossword puzzle,
a cigarette but no ashtray.

Have you ever pictured Hitler there?
I have. He's usually cleaning a gun,
tapping his right foot, misting puffs
of aerosol above his head.
The usual.
Except for the gun.

Imagine Shakespeare on the toilet,
or squatting in a hole before
brainstorming Hamlet. I can see him
strolling back to the stage,
two oak leaves stuck to the bottom of his shoe,
and the man playing Ophelia would kindly let him know,
and Shakespeare would blush,
which isn't something you've thought of before, have you?