where’d you go, kid?
you, still a teenager
with a few hundred bucks to your name
setting off to make a life
you who drove that junker across country
over black ice bridges in February
you with the piss and vinegar
running through your veins
the world by the shorthairs
you with the smartass mouth
the big brass balls
the faith that knew
you’d make it somehow
seems like when I need you
you're never around
then you show up
at exactly the wrong time
and I either turn my back, or say—
do I know you?
you, still a teenager
with a few hundred bucks to your name
setting off to make a life
you who drove that junker across country
over black ice bridges in February
you with the piss and vinegar
running through your veins
the world by the shorthairs
you with the smartass mouth
the big brass balls
the faith that knew
you’d make it somehow
seems like when I need you
you're never around
then you show up
at exactly the wrong time
and I either turn my back, or say—
do I know you?
Brian Rihlmann lives and writes in Reno, Nevada. His poetry has appeared in many magazines, including The Rye Whiskey Review, Fearless, Heroin Love Songs, Chiron Review and The Main Street Rag. His latest collection, "Night At My Throat," (2020) was published by Pony One Dog Press.
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