Poem: To the Guy Blasting Music from His Car at 2AM Outside My Window

It’s the thumping of the
bass that wakes me, makes me
stir from an already restless
sleep, so I peek out of my
blinds into the dimly lit parking lot
searching for the source of the
deafening thumps, finding an
idling Chevy Impala parked under
the twisted oak between a mid-90s
Toyota Corolla and a beat-up
Harley Roadster. My eyes
adjust to the dark and I see the
culprit, nothing but a hulking shadow
seated in the driver’s seat the
blue glow from a cell phone
illuminating only the smallest
slice of his face. He bobs
his head to the music which is
nothing but white noise to me now
–no discernible beat or rhythm–
and I swear I can see him look
right at me then smile like
it’s all one big joke.