at the Night Owl Club
so you can sit here
all night long, tip me
after every song,
buy me scotch
till the final gong
but none of this will help.
You'll still go home alone
unless some other lady has a need
to make her rent
and sees the opportunity
you offer. It won't be me;
I can't be bothered.
I need a different kind of man,
a man who'll hug me tighter
than my panties can,
a big old man
whose big old tongue
will be my tampon
when I'm dry.
If you'll get off that stool
and look in the mirror
behind those whiskey bottles
standing at attention,
you'll see clearly why
you can never be that man,
not even for an hour.
I'm no Billie Holliday,
but even with my glasses off,
I can see that you
ain't no John Wayne.
Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net
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Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri, U.S.A. He has had poems published in a variety of print and online publications, including Public Republic (Bulgaria), Revival (Ireland), Ancient Heart Magazine (Australia), The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey), Poetry Bulawayo (Zimbabwe), The Christian Science Monitor and Commonwealth.
