Santorini by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

She shows me the pictures over the internet
and says we should go to Santorini.

I remind her we have over $30 000 in consumer debt
and are eating bologna sandwiches for the next four months
to make the basic payments to the creditors.

But look at this place,
she says.
It comes with an infinity pool
and a cat that either likes you
or it doesn’t and if it doesn’t,
you can’t stay there.

I look at the place.
It is stunningly beautiful.
Then I see the price.

Anything that costs that much can’t help
but be beautiful,
I say.
Are we eating diamond-encrusted omelettes
each morning?

You’re a historian,
she says.
Some say this is ancient Atlantis,
you can’t tell me you don’t want
to go there.

If I wanted to see dead bodies I would take a job
at the morgue,
I say.

Everything is whitewashed,
she says.
Mediterranean-style.
The germaphobe in you
must love that.

She knows all the angles
when she wants to.

Lays it on heavy like some guilt trip
in the interrogation
room.


But look at the infinity pool
and the soaker tub in the bathroom.

I look
and tell her I’ve seen better
when I have not.

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.