Facekini
I was
in this little
corner convenience
near Ossington Station
when an ultra-skinny dude
wearing a green facekini
strutted in.
I’m sure he thought
it looked cool,
that it was one of those
Mexican wrestling masks
or something.
The guy behind the cash
probably thought it was a hold-up,
backing away from the register
when he saw the man.
But the dude in the facekini
simply walked to the back freezer
to grab a case of Red Bull.
Paid with cash,
which hardly anyone
does anymore.
Then he walked out,
with the colorful delusions
of a leading man.
“We get all sorts,”
the guy behind the register
admitted.
I smiled
and said nothing.
Wondering what sort I was,
or could possibly be.
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.
