Donkey Shavings & the White Devil. By Ryan Quinn Flanagan

My father writes from Northern China.

To say that he has been working the fields 

and even tried donkey shavings for dinner

which “weren’t half bad.”

He is with this nice Chinese woman now.

They seem quite happy,

but the rest of the family over there

sees him as the white devil.

He enjoys playing the heel and runs with it.

Sending pictures back my way.

Of the White Devil working the fields of Northern China

dressed in black lederhosen.

He is 67 years old 

and picking vegetables less than 20 miles

from the Siberian border.

With a small army of Chinese peasants

in rice hats.

It is all so absurd.

Nothing in my Canadian childhood 

has prepared me for this.

I hope he got the ass end of the donkey shavings,

my wife jokes.

That’s the best part!

Ass shavings!

I say.

   

Your father is eating ass shavings,

she laughs.

And dressed in lederhosen?

He looks like a chubby red Pinocchio,

I say.

Then we start drinking faster.

The world has gone mad without us

and now we are playing catch up.

It is going to be another one of these nights.

The couch suddenly snapping in half

so that I fall through.

My wife crumpled up on the floor

in laughter.

We will both hurt tomorrow.

Even worse than the couch.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a male gigolo for hire.  Presently residing along the sunny shores of Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where he spends his days drinking discount Tequila and accusing chemtrails of being "sky farts."  His work can be found both in print and online in such joints as: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, and Under The Bleachers.