Government Informant. By Ryan Quinn Flanagan

I am a paid informant for the feds.

I don’t know if that is the sort of thing you are supposed to talk about,

but I have never really had a filter.

Use your indoor voice, the missus warns all the time,

and I am supposed to know that I have crossed the line again.

Talked about things you are not supposed to talk about.

Made everyone feel awkward.

I am a paid informant for the feds, they just don’t know it.

They have yet to pay me anything, but I don’t hold a grudge.

I consider it back pay for my many years of loyal service.

Spreading disinformation as though the Yeti

is on sabbatical.

Stop telling everyone you are a government informant,

she pleads,

people believe everything.

And there is no reason to doubt her testimony.

I report my findings to my superiors

through stuffed animal

intermediaries.

YOUR INDOOR VOICE, she chides,

YOUR INDOOR VOICE.

I lean in and whisper

that there has never been anyone

but her.

She wraps me in a big bear hug.

Kisses me on the right cheek several times.

It’s true.

People really do believe

everything.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, The Rye Whiskey Review, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Dope Fiend Daily and In Between Hangovers.