LIQUOR STORE SECURITY GUARD by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

The liquor store security guard
seems bothered.

Like he knows
it is only a matter
of time.

This is how
the alarm clock
has always made
me feel.

I understand this man.

Though we are strangers
in a most real sense.

I'd probably hate the guy
if we ever sat down
to have a beer.

Come to think of it,
the liquor store security guard
looks like a real asshole.

Probably pisses in public pools
an pushes old ladies in the subway.

Yellow under the nails
like Shakespearean sonnets.

That breath mint way
of lying.

 

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Horror Sleaze Trash, Cold Rambler, Zygote in My Coffee, Rusty Truck and The Oklahoma Review.

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