Monday, May 13th, 2013...9:46 am

ryan quinn flanagan | she

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She

has these two electric fly swatters
which she keeps
on the deck railing
by the barbecue.


They are green
and shaped like tennis rackets.


I run through the yard
with them
chasing after bugs.


Zap! Zap!
Zap!


One from each side.


Classic German envelopment.


Zap!
Zap!


Bug bodies everywhere.


The life shocked out
of them.


Flat on their backs
legs in the air
like a wanton
woman.


I am suddenly reminded of that crazy Chinaman
on the Greyhound
about a year back
who thought the kid sitting a few seats away
was an alien
and chopped off his head
with a machete.


Aurora borealis
and the miracle of wonder bread.


Nerve gas
in the clam bakes
of tomorrow.


She yells from the house
for me to come inside
for lemonade.


I drop the fly swatters
in the grass,
run up the stairs
of the back deck
with wild waving arms
of abandon.


I am not six years old
but I can sure act
like it.

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