By Ryan Quinn Flanagan
The mind stays in the black
and the body follows.
The confusion of rush hour roundabouts
cleared up in a way I could not explain
to you five minutes ago.
Things are fluid.
The stairwell is a shipping crate
that dabs stretched limousines
out of their length.
I hear you laughing.
With ears
large as spot
planes.
The clothes
bunched in a pile
on the floor
like the human experiment
starting out
all over again.
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow.