from Robert Scott

3:17 a.m. and other poems, scribbles, rants, and drivel


Maybe 

 

The to-do list you scratched on the back of a junk mail envelope with a dying Bic pen is a poem I want to perform in a national slam competition:

 

Get soup stock

Oil change Thursday

Dry cleaners $44

Need dog food

Trash bags

Babysitter Friday?

Michelle’s b-day cake

Call Mom, re: plane tix

Vacuum stairs

Dentist Tuesday 4:30

Clean kids’ bathroom

 

Sure, I’d lose to a witty, articulate, overweight, green-tea-drinking MFA candidate from Yale, but maybe you’d listen, and maybe you’d understand, and maybe we’d have coffee, and you’d decide, just maybe, that having your own poet

(me)

is a worthy endeavor, and maybe you’d add me to your to-do list in wobbly script:

 

Find affectionate poet

 

Synopsis

Expect the unexpected in this unique clutch of poems, observations, stories, and rants. Robert Scott takes on love, Olympic snowboarding, lies, alcohol addiction, family, even multinational pharmaceutical corporations with his signature amalgam of dark humor, self-effacing honesty, and a scoop or two of politically incorrect rage. Whether you love slam, spoken word, free verse, potato salad, or pissed off, middle aged suburbanite, Scott’s “3:17 a.m.” offers something that will resonate with you. This collection is a must for everyone who ever waded through tiresome, eleventh grade poetry lessons hoping for signs of life.

A tackboard full of pictures.