Sunday, September 15, 2019

CREEPY METH HEAD. By Brian Rihlmann



4:30 a.m.
and 80 is shut down
so I’m forced
to take city streets
to the coffee shop

I roll down Prater
through old town Sparks
hang a left on El Rancho

as I pass the car lots on Kietzke
I notice the headlights—
up my ass

the car passes, finally
and goes around
I wind up behind them
at a red light
California plates 

the light turns green
and they crawl
now I’m up THEIR ass
thinking “put down the fucking phone”

so I pass them 
haul ass around
and they get behind
give me the brights
then zoom past

the light’s red at Plumb
and as I pull alongside 
a tinted window opens
and two young ladies 
(teenagers?)
are screaming  
“Creepy fucking meth head!
Learn how to drive!”

I laugh at the “meth head” remark
then express my own feelings
which involves the phrase 
“stupid cunts!”

but I don’t think
they even hear me
I cannot outshout 
these two mad lionesses 
they are ferocious
as they continue to scream
what a creepy loser I am
and I should get a life
until they finally take off
tires squealing 

I’m as outmatched now
as I ever was
I recall incidents 
from long ago 
at high school parties
at bars...

later, I see myself 
in the mirror 
my two week beard
the long hair

I smile
and look at my teeth
not exactly gleaming white
but still
there they are

creepy? maybe...
but “meth head?”


my ass!







Brian Rihlmann was born in NJ, and currently lives in Reno, NV. He writes mostly semi autobiographical, confessional free verse, much of it on the so-called "grittier" side.  Folk poetry...for folks. He has been published in Constellate Magazine, Poppy Road Review, and has an upcoming piece in The American Journal Of Poetry.

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