The Bermuda Triangle Of Pullman Drive
people disappear and you
can't help but wonder about them
around here there was the one
my roommate dubbed
"The Mad Conductor"
due to his constant gesturing
and occasional screaming
as he walked the streets
day and night
and then that long-haired dude
in the big straw hat who
if you encountered him
would never speak
or make eye contact
but would step off the sidewalk
into the street
and stand still as a lamppost
until you'd passed
and finally the stooped old man
who’d shuffle by every day
on his way to the corner store
he’d stand in the alley
behind our house
drink his daily ration
from a brown paper bag
then piss on the fence
before shuffling off
to wherever he came from
to wherever old men like him
wind up
Brian Rihlmann lives and writes in Reno, Nevada. His poetry has appeared in many magazines, including The Rye Whiskey Review, Fearless, Heroin Love Songs, Chiron Review and The Main Street Rag. His latest collection, "Night At My Throat," (2020) was published by Pony One Dog Press.
people disappear and you
can't help but wonder about them
around here there was the one
my roommate dubbed
"The Mad Conductor"
due to his constant gesturing
and occasional screaming
as he walked the streets
day and night
and then that long-haired dude
in the big straw hat who
if you encountered him
would never speak
or make eye contact
but would step off the sidewalk
into the street
and stand still as a lamppost
until you'd passed
and finally the stooped old man
who’d shuffle by every day
on his way to the corner store
he’d stand in the alley
behind our house
drink his daily ration
from a brown paper bag
then piss on the fence
before shuffling off
to wherever he came from
to wherever old men like him
wind up
As good as ever, Brian !
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