A Poem with no Name

When I shave my face
    and worry that one side
        may not be even with the other
it is not because
    a knife will be plunged
            Several times
        into my chest by a man
            Who is offended
            By lopsided beards.
        But, I worry.

When I comb out my hair
    that is long like a womans
In a public bathroom
    and in walks another
        with a short, cropped man's haircut
    I sometimes wonder
        what crosses his mind
    Seeing me combing out my
        womanly hair.
    Why? He's still just taking a piss.

And I don't like
    shitting in public
And nobody else seems to
    either
    I think, we think
        of all those previous asses
    That sat on that unclean seat
So, I hold it, we hold it
        Until at home
    Because I know, we know
        Who to blame for
            That dirty stool.

These would be the grievances
    of the Declaration of Independence
    had Jefferson written it this year.

    How the British would laugh
        In between sips of tea.

    "Ha, ha, quite, quite."