Patriarchy’s worst nightmare

Someday, the last gendered toilet will become 

*neutral*

The last seat will be put down to rest,

The last manly flush will echo,

The last virile, sturdy, male, bleached gendered toiled

Will close its door

For good

And reemerge 

as its unbiased, free, indifferent self

We might not notice then,

Might not see the difference, 

So pay attention:

It will still smell like a mixture of urine and chlorine,

Of roses bred in spray bottles,

Of salt ocean waves on acid

It will still be the same uncomfortable cosy temperature after other cheeks sat

If puked in, it will save specks of undigested food under its edge like nothing’s ever changed

We might not notice then,

Might not see the difference

As it is

in our unobservant eyes

still just a toilet