The Craven: An Ode to Larry Craig

Cross-posted in Orange.

Once inside a bathroom dreary, while I pondered weak and weary

Over many a quilted rolls of tp on the bathroom stall door

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping

Again some one gently tapping, tapping ‘neath my chamber door.

‘Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping ‘neath my chamber door –

Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak month of June

And each separate bathroom visit wrought its stain upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow

From the textbook description of being known as a man whore

For the rare and radiant patron whom I sought for my urgent chore

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of anothers’ trousers

Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;

This it is, and nothing more.’

Presently my pole grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

‘Sir,’ said I, ‘or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was crapping, and so gently you came tapping,

Oh so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door;

Policeman there, and nothing more.

Deep into his eyes peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting dreaming dreams no Senator ever dared to dream before

But the silence was unbroken, and the copper gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered words, ‘Oh, more!’

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, ‘Oh, more!’

Clearly I am going to score.

Back into the stall turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I hear a tapping somewhat louder than before.

‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is someone at my bathroom stall door;

Let me see then, who this man is, and this mystery explore.

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.

Tis “the wind” from the man next door.’

Open here I flung the stall door, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped the stately copper whom I had witnessed before.

Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute part he stroked me

But, with a mien of smug satisfaction, perched beside my chamber door

Perched upon a stool just beside my chamber door

Perched, and sat, and said no more.

Then this policeman beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore,

`Though thy chest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.

Vastly prim and proper copper wandering from stall to stall –

Tell me what you wanted by tapping ‘neath my bathroom stall door!’

Quoth the copper, `Here to score.’

Much I marveled this handsome copper to hear discourse so plainly

Though his answer little meaning – little relevancy bore

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Could ever think I’d proposition someone near my stall door –

Handsome man who had tapped beneath my stall door,

Who plainly said he’s ‘Here to score.’

But the copper, standing on the tiles in front of the bathroom door,

Looked at me and repeated his firm desire to score

Nothing further then he uttered – til the handcuffs he then fluttered –

Then I scarcely dared to utter ‘Oh, my god, I want to score’

After the act he will leave me, as others have flown before.

Then the cop said, “Not here to score.’

Startled at the sudden change of the words that he’d so clearly spoken

‘Doubtless,’ thought I, ‘I have misspoken to this man outside my door,

Surely he cannot think that I would seek this act of passion

With a same-sex stranger behind a public bathroom door’

Surely I was sadly mistaken at what the copper had in store

‘Oh,’ I thought, ‘free no more.’

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen dispenser

As my bowels released their contents upon the tiled floor,

‘Wretch,’ I cried, ‘you are mistaken – I am not a homosexual

Despite – despite my pleas and angst the copper smiled no more

‘Crap, oh crap, this is a disaster, occurring near my bathroom door’

Quoth the copper, ‘Speak no more.’**

‘Copper!,’ said I, ‘I am not evil! Copper still, you must believe me

Whoever sent you, sent you to this bathroom stall door

Tapping, pleading for my attention in this deserted bathroom

Haunting me as I was crapping, crapping behind my own stall door

Is there a way that I can convince you that I am not looking to score?’

Quoth the copper, ‘Speak no more.’**

And with that we were departing, I was shrieking and still farting

And I was taken to the precinct – the night in jail was such a bore

With all the media attention I feel I must at least get to mention

That I am not a homosexual – despite the tapping ‘neath my stall door

The policeman was mistaken – I was just quite visibly shaken

By the constant tapping of the form that appeared next to my stall door

Will I be believed? Nevermore.

And the policeman, never flinching, still insisting, still insisting

That I propositioned him just inside my chamber door

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming

And the law books he is reading tell him to throw me to the floor

So in the upcoming election, whose fate I do abhor

I shall be elected – nevermore!

**Because “You have the right to remain silent” doesn’t exactly work here

With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe