2 poems, by scot young

gone with the wind

for butterfly mcqueen

i met ms mcqueen
in 74
she was onstage in kc
in a starring role
and i cleaned up after
the dinner show
and all the money
went home

she told me once
i would do great things
i told her i wanted to
go into construction
shaking her head
she had the biggest smile
and said that was not
what she saw

she said she didn’t care
for streets paved with gold

never believed
in those jesus myths
that her first acting job
was a maid and probably
be her last role as well
that when she did
gone with the wind
she couldn’t go to the
it was whites only

when i said that
was a long time ago
ms mcqueen
she smiled
placed her hand on my
arm and shook her head

no honey
it’s not

singing in Kerouac alley

for william taylor jr

at vesivuvo
we drank beer &
made small talk
talked of poets &
ran the problems
of the world
through a blender
w/o the ice or lime

outside the window
in kerouac alley
leaning up against
the corner bookstore
sat two aging throw-
and cowboy hats
beaten down
by the wind
the rain and life
picking an old epiphone
& singing a made up song
about sleeping
outside in california
empty guitar case open
with no luck asking
for money they waited
for the next tour bus

between songs and
cigarettes they passed
a joint chased it with
a pint of schnapps
obviously designed
to take the chill off
and to make the night
and the song
a little easier

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