An Ode

My latest poem:

Women use restrooms as private phone booths.
Which is unfortunate
with only one per floor with three stalls and
500 billion women on said floor.

Last week,
As I hurried
(With a pot of coffee to relieve)
I finally snapped.
The three were all "full",
Two were beeping
One buzzing.

I had waited...
pointedly paced... reopened and closed the door
-but beeping and buzzing continued
At last I barked "Toilets are not texting stalls ladies!"
Insert a very Awkward pause...
while I try desperately to not laugh

And Then!
All three flushed
All three emerged flushed
Casting sideways glowering looks.
I smiled cheerfully at them all
and happily passed them on my way to the loo