Potato Man
I am descended from a long line of Irish peasants,
potato farmers to be more exact,
working the land for English plantation owners.
One peasant hooked up with the master’s daughter,
the master giving his daughter an ultimatum.
She chose the Irish peasant,
and they were both banished to the new world.
And now, we are here.
And I can’t get enough potatoes – great
apples of the earth – in all their magnificent forms.
I Know Karate
The car sped to a stop
by the front door of the mall.
A young guy jumped out of the driver seat
and rushed around the back of the car
to confront me.
“I know karate, don’t fuck with me!”
he screamed.
I had no idea who he was.
Another guy got out of the passenger seat,
offering a gentle word of encouragement
to his friend.
“Great, so you’re the karate kid!”
I said to the driver.
“Guess that makes you Mr. Miyagi,”
I turned to the passenger.
Opening my jacket wide
to expose the sheath of a large
hunting knife.
I smiled.
Nobody said anything.
The karate connection
got back in their car
and drove away.
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author who lives in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage. His work has been published both in print and online in such places as: The New York Quarterly, Red Fez, Evergreen Review, The Literary Underground, Horror Sleaze Trash, Rusty Truck, Zygote in my Coffee, and The Oklahoma Review. He enjoys listening to the blues and cruising down the TransCanada in his big blacked out truck.
