Girl, pee in a can,
that’s what Grandpa said.
When it rains and the men go fishing,
Girl stays in the tent all day
and pees in a can.
The tent, held aloft by
scratchy ropes, tied to white aspen trees,
heavy canvas, oily, sticky –
smelled of grease treatment
to make tent waterproof.
Girl, don’t touch the tent,
or the waterproofing will
fail and each fingerprint
will make itself into its own leaky faucet.
Girl, bored alone in tent,
only one Nancy Drew Mystery, already finished.
Nothing to do, as the rain pelts down, puddling,
nothing but pee in a Folger’s can
and touch the tent above
her brother’s bedroll.
4 thoughts on “Girl, Pee in a Can”
Love this one, Carrie! Our Folgers can was on the backseat floor of a ’51 Plymouth. On weekend drives, whenever I yelled out, ” I gota go!”, my Mom calmly replied, “Use the can!”
Love it! I would be touching the tent above my brother’s bedroll, too!
Ha! Mischievous you . . . thanks!