Jerrycans by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

She arrives home from work
to find him drunk again
and punching holes in the walls.
When she asks him what is wrong
he keeps vomiting on the carpet
and stumbling into each soupy
new offering.
They are expecting.
Perhaps he was not.
Before she returns from the linen closet
with some towels
he is out the door and off
in his truck.
The back cab still open.
A week’s worth of empties
and two red Jerrycans
spilling out into
the street.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a happily unmarried proud father of none. His work can be found both in print and online in such joints as Your One Phone Call, Horror Sleaze Trash, and Dead Snakes. He has an affinity for dragonflies, discount tequila, and all things sarcastic.

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