[For the sake of this mathematical hypothetical]
       

For the sake of this
mathematical hypothetical,
I'm a federal bus marshal
here to monitor
the inconsiderate-guy-
in-the-bathroom situation.
Represent variables
in the following manner:
let b stand for the bladder control
of the goat crated
above the lounger.
The number of hours
I've camped outside the bathroom
like an antsy golfer awaiting the green
should be rounded
to the nearest hundred.
Some call me Slobath the Destroyer
after my exploits
aboard Megabus 559,
but for the sake of this word problem,
consider me and my deputy,
played by the ghost of Boris Karloff,
the last commandos of civility.
He should be shattering plates
in the kitchen
of an elderly debutante
or testing tacks
on deserted highways,
but instead he signals me
to move into position.
We initiate
Freedom Protocol (f)
which involves
kicking and screaming
and is all that separates us
from lampreys
suckling cans of beans,
I shout as we maul the suspect.
Represent the subject as a stoic teen
who's been nursing a nectarine
since Iowa City.
If t equal< the tightness
of my handcuffs,
how long will it be
until our mutual appetite
for destruction abates
and we're across state lines
exploding stygian archipelagos
along the highway
where your life
as a tender hellcat is over?

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Copyright © 2013 Kyle McCord All rights reserved
from Hayden's Ferry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission