Deep inside the colon probed The mini-camera crew; Past the door and entryway To post-digested goo. Along the walls where history holds The remnants and remains Of every meal once consumed And there reflect their stains. A dark a lonely avenue That’s traveled north to south, Bearing traffic that begins Within a person’s mouth. Lumps and bumps along the way, The probe will photograph And then emerge with evidence Bestowed upon the staff. An analytic microscope Will view the contents spewed Upon a slide, transmitting it So it can then be viewed. When the screening is complete, The doctors satisfied, You’ll spend the afternoon alone Recovering your pride.