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Who The Hell Ever Heard Of A Sand Etched Toilet?

this phenomenon happens as often as
lightning striking barbed wire fence, right?
house barely six months old.
toilets sporting circular crud ring
which won’t budge;
damned if you don’t & double
if you do, ‘cause snow-bol whitens natural
peach porcelain but doesn’t faze damn ring.
clorox ditto.   hard water & rust area.
enough calcium deposits
to build three skeletons.
commercial cleaner smells like muriatic
acid; waters eyes, burns nostrils,
stabs wheezing lungs.
two days, the creeping crud returns
with a vengeance.  toilet brush gone
bald like man losing hair.
last house on block.  end of water line.
south neighbors are snow birds,
only visit two November weeks. 
water dept. says they will clean out
the sand trap.  it’s packed, is
backing-up to clog shower heads.
city official denies accusation.
next day, three city trucks parked
outside; men walk back & forth
stare at foamy ditch which never
goes dry.  pick decayed teeth as they
tell raunchy jokes.  later, they drive away
like robin hoods, head for dunkin’
donut java.  toilet has been etch-
webbed for life; the ring worn
more tenacious than any secured
on quivering left finger.

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