Issue 7 | Summer 2010

Rhinestone Cowboy

as sung by Glen Campbell


He tells me he wants to be a Rhinestone Cowboy.

He smells like stale Lucky Strikes,

the Aegean, and boatwright’s sweat,

I found this stupid ex-pat bar in a guidebook.


riding out on a horse

in a star-spangled rodeo.


Barely old enough to be his daughter,

but there’s something

about the way he calls me

baby doll. I order another round

so I don’t have to leave.


And nice guys get washed away

like the snow and the rain.


His friends laugh at him

tell him to leave me alone,

the poor americanitha.

There is something suspicious

about a girl alone in a bar with no story.


And a smile can hide all the pain

But you’re down when you’re ridin’ the train

Meanwhile, we’re in

his dingy apartment,

watching my clothes fall

off at the kitchen table.

Enough whiskey to feel

clean until the sunrise.


Filed under: Prose