Tuesday, April 28, 2020

Whole Lotta Hominids. By Ryan Quinn Flanagan


Not that anyone is counting.
The census takers have become vacation days
and the minister for housing 
has plastered himself back into the wall.
They would dig him out, but that would be against 
his rights and no one wants to cross those.

They are sacred, like reserved parking.
So our planet grows tubby in the waistline.
Whole lotta hominids playing the lotto.

Losing money they never had.
Breathing urban warfare irregular. 

Masturbating at 37 000 ft
because they paid for 
comfort class.

The inflight movie two thirds the way
to that vanilla scented safe space 
best actress in a leading 
role ending

with none of 
the fixings.







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 Rye Whiskey Review, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Dope Fiend Daily and In Between Hangovers.

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