The Drinking Fountain

by Kenn Nesbitt
The drinking fountain squirted me.
It shot right up my nose.
It felt as if I’d stuck my nostril
on the garden hose.


It squirted water in my eye
and also in my ear.
I’m having trouble seeing,
and it’s awfully hard to hear.


The water squirted east and west.
It squirted north and south.
Upon my shirt, my pants, my hair
— but nothing in my mouth.


I’m sure that soon they’ll fix it,
but until then, let me think...
Just whom can I convince that they
should come and have a drink?


Text © Kenn Nesbitt, published by Meadowbrook Press.

Illustration © Mike Gordon.

Any copying or use of this poem without consent is unlawful.

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