Steve McQueen is dead. Long live the Queen.
(Written after watching the movie “The Blob” and remembering that Steve McQueen died so young from cancer)

That bastard has stolen my heart
his fast cars and blue eyes
racing up the mountain to find the alien blob.

The doctor said,
I don’t know what it is.
I might have to amputate.

As the man on the couch
succumbed to the blob
in the primordial horror flick.

Kids yelling monster.
Kids saving the town.
Kids circling the citizens

to bag and bottle
the blob that swallows
everyone it touches.

It digests then like the fly
that sips liquid slurry
through its proboscis.

Kids screaming,
parents crying,
children dying,

and McQueen kissing a girl,
and a girl kissing McQueen,
and there’s no air left
after the co2 extinguisher

saves the world,
saves the girl,
saves the boy,

and all the time
all the blob wanted
was a steak dinner
and a ride back to the stars.