Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Steve McQueen (1960)




Steve McQueen  (1960)

He fixes on the actress who is watching
sweat drip off her chin onto a handheld mirror.
Acting, man, beats having your brain vibrate
into Jello-O in a factory.  But it's all a box,
six feet long, maybe with blue linen lining.
He takes off a cowboy boot, rubs his foot.
Look, I don't mind cloth napkins with a meal,
maybe a steamy kiss between sucks on weed.
McQueen whispers something to the actress,
squints, pulls the boot back on by its mule ears.
Let's figure I live to sixty.  Can you see me
some November day, like an old cow skull,
lying on a chaise longue by a Hollywood pool,
pooched belly, mouth a graveyard of teeth?



This poem first appeared in Chariton Review (edited by Jim Barnes).

Steve McQueen (1960) is featured in Red Shuttleworth's forthcoming poetry chapbook from Finishing Line Press: We Drove All Night ( the chapbook can be pre-ordered from Finishing Line Press at the web site under "New and Forthcoming Books).

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