Archive for the ‘Ryan Quinn Flanagan’ Category

St. Francis with Barbecue Sauce


The mob judge
found in a burnt out car
reduced to charcoal
had rendered his decision.

It was not
a good decision.

St. Francis
with barbecue sauce|
couldn’t have walked into the fire
any better if he tried:

You know you’re in the hot seat
when the coroner uses dental records
to notify next of kin.


Waiting with George

The humming neon said
Totally Nude
as I sat in the deli across the street
each night
waiting for mother to get off work.

There were whistles by passersby
as she crossed the street in her leopard skin
and black nylon
and asked the Deli owner George
if I had behaved myself.
When he nodded in the affirmative
she let me sit on her lap
as she had a smoke
with George.

It was not until years later
I figured out that
after sitting in strange laps all night
it was reassuring to have someone
want to sit in yours

free of charge.

George always let me have all the apple juice
I wanted
while we waited there

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