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| ***BIO*** Ryan Quinn Flanagan has tickets to the second coming if anyone is interested. But be forewarned, they are nosebleeds. |
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| Whisky with Lizzie Borden |
| by Ryan Quinn Flanagan |
| On a loading dock
out back a shrink wrap factory I broke the cap of a forty with a woman in men's dress shoes who parked her shopping cart up against the aluminum siding and conversed with invisible grasshoppers on every third syllable. As the night wore on she switched to crickets but was adamant that they only understood the odd pronoun. She constantly tugged at the hem of her dress and bit her lip when I asked her why she smiled so much? got away with murder, you know...they thought a woman couldn't do such things...they found the axe and the bloody clothes but I still walked. The way she held her whisky I had no doubts about her guilt. I told her I buried my rifle in a grassy knoll in Dallas and blamed it on a Communist with Cuban affiliations. She seemed impressed and we talked about the stars til the whisky ran out and the crickets and grasshoppers stopped counting in slumber. I watched admiringly as she wheeled away into the night, men's dress shoes clunking against the pavement five sizes too big. |
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| Oct. 2009 |
| 126 |