Diner by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

I find myself in this diner again.
The food is atrocious and the waitress
looks like a repo man with skid marks
for hands.

The kitchen is full of young Mexicans
that came for a better life
and scrape leftover ketchup
off the plates.

The radio always cranked to musical genocide.

If someone is steering the ship,
I don’t see it.

The only other customer is talking
with the napkin dispenser.

If you come to this diner
make sure you use the bathroom
before you come, just trust me
on that.

But it’s along the bus route
which is nice.

And has no name
like those crack babies
that pop out
right into the care
of the state.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan Black & White

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a happily unmarried proud father of none. His work can be found both in print and online. He has an affinity for dragonflies, discount tequila, and all things sarcastic.

2 thoughts on “Diner by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

  1. I’ve been to those diners. They usually have great burgers and real greasy chili. And sometimes mice and/or cockroaches. But Americans keep going back.


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