How Do Ya Not See? by Brian Rihlmann

My coworker Tony 
is completely unfiltered.
Says whatever pops into his head.
Now he asks, in reference
to our other coworker, 
the perpetually stoned JD—
How the fuck do ya put a pan 
caked with scrambled eggs
back on the rack?
How do ya not see that?
 
Tony’s 20 years older than I.
He carries a hundred pounds 
of beer belly and 
wears the thickest pair
of glasses I’ve ever seen
on the bridge of a full-blown, 
veiny, alcoholic nose.
They dilate his eyes
to double their size
and make him appear
twice as insane
as he awaits an answer
to what I’d foolishly assumed 
was a rhetorical question.
 
He’s holding the offending pan
in one hand 
and a large knife
he was chopping vegetables with
in the other.
 
I dunno, man...I say. 
It’s amazing what people 
don’t see though...right?
 
He laughs. Says—
A-Fuckin’-Men to that!
Full New Yawk accent. 

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.