Further Friday Floods

The burger’s fecal was not done.
Sludge eager to void my bum.
So in a dirty shopping mall.
I found a public stall.
And spewed forth the additional runs.

It slid out with such ease.
Like a lemon with a squeeze.
Clearly burger and coffee combined.
The stench was not confined.
It brought other patrons to their knees.

As I staggered into the light.
After my fateful fecal plight.
I wondered why the sudden pain.
Please, no more brown rain.
Too late, a trilogy of fecal fright.

Pure Pooetry

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