Hailing Cabs Instead of Caesar by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

I am glad I do not live in the Midwest.

To be stuck in the middle of anything sounds bad.

Like a bellybutton mid-drift that everyone

pokes at.


Sure there are antibiotics,

but you have to get infected



I prefer to be far away from everything.

Like an oil tanker that could spill its guts

into the tangy writhing ocean

and no one would know.



like a disruptive child

from the rest of

the class.


Far away as space.

That kind of distance.

Unsure of everything

and somehow comforted

by that.


People meet

in a way expectations

seldom do.


The reality of anything

is a little less.


And living at one extreme

it takes some serious imagination to

envision the other.


Gallivanting over the limber

technocrats of sweaty squash court



Hailing cabs

instead of Caesar.


Fingering the grease

of questionable all-night pizzerias

in small circular motions

that remind you of the

sink drain.


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