Preparation H

Three hours into the long
trek to southern California,
somewhere in the vast
Dakota badlands,
you begin to drone on
about your mother.

Whoaaa! More pain
than hemorrhoids.

What the hell is
wrong with her?
Why did she...?
How dare she...?
How could she...?

An hour later at a rest stop,
still droning, you go off to pee.

I drive away.

Preparation H for the soul!