I Told Myself by Brian Rihlmann

I remember the day
the thought crept in
it was a Tuesday…no—
a Wednesday
yes, I’m sure of it
after I’d just blown
the two twenties I had
in my wallet
on beers and shots
at the corner dive
to erase another bad day at work
another day wasted
unloading trucks
stocking shelves

and I thought my god—
I just spent my entire day’s pay
in a few hours
(minimum wage was 4.25, then)
and I realized that
for the rest of my life
I will do just this
or something like it
trade my days for dollars

then the long
and bloody rebellion began
with the words Fuck it—
and another shot
and another beer

I may be wrong
it could have also crept in
on that Friday night
that Eddie and I got high
drove out to Mustang
and each banged
two whores a piece—
hundred bucks a pop

and as we drove west
and coming down
back toward the neon city
Eddie turns to me
and says Shit…
I’m gonna have to
hock one of my guitars
again….that was rent money

for me it was a week’s pay
and I sat there
imagining a whole week‘s worth
of bullshit down the drain
just so I could stick my dick
in some strange pussy

well…I’d make it back
I told myself
fuck it—
at least I didn’t make my living
with my legs in the air

there was a distinct difference
I told myself
between taking my boss’s abuse
and pretending
I enjoyed a stranger’s cock
inside of me
telling him Oh yes
as he pumped away, whispering
You love it, don’t you? 

OUCH IS ALL YOU NEED by Brian Rihlmann

 

a woman I don’t know
posted a question
in a Facebook poetry group—
explain love in one word
and it only took a fraction
of a second
and I already knew
but first I
scrolled down the page—
truth beauty selflessness
trust infinite god christ
unconditional
everything
and then
with my middle finger
I tapped out the word
“Ouch”

GHOST VISIT by Brian Rihlmann

 

He’s been gone
a couple months now,
but the waves keep coming,
as her sniffles and sobs
drift through the office.

But today I hear a snort,
an eruption of giggling,
and glance over
to see her
hunched over her desk,
hands covering her mouth.

After a moment,
she sits back
in her chair, sighs,
and whispers,
“Honey, you’ve got to quit
saying stuff like that
while I’m at work.”

I look around,
Listen…
but I see no traces,
hear no echoes.

He’s only here
for her.

OH WELL by Brian Rihlmann

this was just another morning

when I pulled into the parking lot

of the coffee shop

and saw the lilacs blooming

in the island

surrounded by the red curb

and didn’t feel like walking over

and smelling them

oh well…

I guess I’ve smelled them

before

haven’t I?