JUNK SURFER by Debra McQueen When I can no longer look at death tolls in Syria and record low temperatures across the Midwest and a presidential election years ahead of schedule Kim Kardashian’s magnificent ass is a magnet to my steely mouseclick I only had a minute to check my email make plans based on weather.com and Fandango When the rip tide of Yahoo Gossip of Hollyscoop dragged me out to a sea of Where are you now Oh Corey Feldman Oh Ralph Macchio Oh Soleil Moon Frye? Ye who weren’t invited to dance with washed-up stars? But there you are in the lineup you red carpet best and worst you baby bumps you break-ups you get-back-togethers Instead of my dos you bring out the don’ts in me You bury me in cellulite comparisons My cottage cheese is less than J. Lo’s but more than Reese’s I should be reading Billy Collins or Ploughshares or Betty Friedan I should be working my way through the Sunday crossword from the NYT in ink – I could be shopping for organic beets swimming 50 laps memorizing Matthew Arnold’s Dover Beach – or at least that last haunting stanza – But I’m a caught rubber necker at a five car pileup at a train derailment at the intersection of self-loathing and holier-than-thou where I stand arms outstretched eyes to the sky saying I relinquish saying Feed Me Make me whole
Debra McQueen is a special education teacher by day and a motorcycle riding poet by night. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Red Triangle, The Lake, The Legendary, Undertow Tanka Review, Neon, WORK Literary Magazine, and RoguePoetry Annual Review.
She can be found on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/debra.mcqueen