JUNK SURFER, Debra McQueen

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


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