At least you have a woman by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

My woman doesn’t respect me anymore,
says Bart.
She’s started hugging me
like she’s not afraid anymore.

At least you have a woman,
says Mike.
All I have is this hand.

You mean that thing you used to shake hands
with us this morning?

That very same one!
he laughs.

I look at my hand, 
trying to scrape some mystery 
thing off.

You’re probably already prego,
he laughs.
I’m not paying for your mistake.

When have you ever paid for anything?
I say.

Remember that whore from Haliburton that tried to kill me,
that one with the crazy overbite?
How she poisoned me with arsenic for like three weeks?
I really paid for that one.

We all agree.
He has paid for something.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a male gigolo for hire.  Presently residing along the sunny shores of Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where he spends his days drinking discount Tequila and accusing chemtrails of being "sky farts."  His work can be found both in print and online in such joints as: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, and Under The Bleachers.