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.