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.

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