December 10, 2018

 

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I could
sit in the
cool dark cocoon
of my room
and pontificate forever,
but what good
would that
do?

I could pour salt shakers
over slimy slug life
by the back sliding door
and claim victory
for compression sock gentrification
everywhere.

I would never do it,
but I could spy for the Martians
pro bono.

Really give them the goods.
Park cars for money
with the windows rolled
down.

Chlorinate holiday pools
out of their germs
like robbing a bank
made of water.






Article © Ryan Quinn Flanagan. All rights reserved.
Published on 2017-12-18
Image(s) are public domain.


1 Reader Comments

sarah ito
12/24/2017
12:01:12 PM

You write a great short poem, Ryan. You say a lot with very little. Congrats.

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By Ryan Quinn Flanagan: