Dating the Pyramids
I shower and shave
and dress up for the evening.
Style my hair with product
before borrowing my
parent’s car.
Dating the Pyramids.
One at a time, of course.
I am a gentleman, you see.
Have each of them home by curfew.
Never wanting there to be any jealousy
between them.
Just tourists with cameras,
and plenty of sand.
No Sweat
It’s just a book placed on a desk.
A dictionary full of words to choose from.
More like a gameshow than something
you would read.
And even though it is sweltering,
there is no sweat because a book
does not do that.
Lots of words,
but not a single droplet
of perspiration.
Which would make the old gents
in the sauna quite jealous.
Trying to rub the salty sting out
of bulging bloodshot eyes.
Arena Fries (2)
Shoestring cold
blanketed in red blobs
of Ketchup.
During the second period
intermission.
Arena fries
in a square white
cardboard
box.
The home team
down 5-3 going into
the third.
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage. His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, The Academy of the Heart and Mind, Setu, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review.
