Standard Procedure

I came in here to close my eyes

away from all the corporate lies.

But in the stall to my left,

the air is pulled in, sharp and theft.

A pair of heels, scuffed and black,

pressed against the floor, won't track.

She’s holding it in, that jagged sound,

keeping her feet on the tile ground.

Above the latch, the metal is thin,

where a sharp key let the outside in.

'For a good time,' the scratchings say,

while someone’s world falls down today.