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

first.

 

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.

 

Removed

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

MS-DOS.

 

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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