Let us go then, to the john, Where the toilet seat waits to be sat upon Like a lover’s lap perched upon ceramic; Let us go, through doors that do not always lock, Which means you ought to knock Lest opening one reveal a soul within Who’ll shout, “Stay out! Did you not see my shin, Framed within the gap twixt floor and stall?” No, I did not see that at all. That is not what I saw, at all.
To the stall the people come to go, Reading an obscene graffito.
We have lingered in the chamber labeled “MEN” Till attendants proffer aftershave and mints As we lather up our hands with soap, and rinse.
(The book is now in its third edition. Worth getting! As the preface explains, "This edition has been expanded from previous editions, in that this edition exists and previous ones do not.")