Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 05/22/20


many nights I watched
before she headed out
to the cathouse
while she applied the blush
the eyeliner
the red lipstick
on lips that would soon
be sucking another man’s cock

I’d hear her come in
early in the morning
shower first
then climb in beside me
and count the money
while I pretended to sleep

it was always the same—
“it’s just a job”

you may say
I put myself there
and you’d be right
but a young man
must test himself—
in many ways I didn’t
measure up
and here was a way—

she was older
more experienced
men offered
to buy her love
to take her away
in Italian sports cars
or on yachts

but she came home
to me—
a drunken dishwasher
a struggling musician
a ten car pileup

I could handle it
I could deal
with what other men
and tomorrow
I’d be stronger
I’d endure

I wouldn’t sit at home alone
and watch old sitcoms
and drink myself
into a blackout
while imagining her
taking it up the ass
or obsessing about
how she got
that rugburn on her back

I’d get it together
I’d write that song
that would take me
and the boys in the band
straight to the fucking top

©2020 Brian Rihlmann All rights reserved.


Brian Rihlmann was born in NJ, and currently lives in Reno, NV. He writes mostly semi-autobiographical, confessional free verse, much of it on the so-called “grittier” side. Folk poetry…for folks. He has been published in Constellate Magazine, Poppy Road Review, and has an upcoming piece in The American Journal Of Poetry.


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