Brian Rihlmann


Before work, parked in the back
corner of the lot, he spills another
load into a sock he uses for the
purpose, dreaming of pornstar
bodies and red lips.

He’s 25 and 300 pounds…
likes his video games.
Football. NASCAR.
Never been laid, but
it seems overrated anyway.

He wipes himself off, tosses
his whore into the pile
of fast food wrappers
on the passenger side,
then grunts his way out.

He shuffles toward the
grey building, toward
another 10 hour day
of packing boxes.

As he settles in, a plain girl at a
nearby station smiles at him,
but he looks away.
He doesn’t know her name.

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