Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: Drag Queens

“…to get a drink?!”
Connie Lee Francis
Rollie was funny as hell but
in those days, ‘queer’ jokes were
all the rage (except around me)
But Rol never made fun of local queens
or butch girls who beat the pavement
in biker boots back in Bingo

Walking Manhattan with Rollie and Jo
and tomorrow morning’s groom
(later, my ex-husband)
All my fave boys were there
We took my family for
a walk on the sparkly side

Drag show, which bar?
We walked in to claim our
Night Before Wedding toast
(most men have bachelor parties;
I’ll give my ex credit for that)
Drag star, Connie Lee Francis

Finished “Where the Boys Are”
Stood at bar, waving glove at
bartender, then a flirty falsetto,
“What does a girl have to do…”
Thirsty girl, she dropped to baritone

We didn’t have a proper laugh
until later – the whole thing
The setting, the show
Her range of voice; she had
no choice. Like I said…
Thirsty girl

© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

The second of three consecutive poem/stories about my late brother-in-law, Rollie Newton.

Matt and Casey, this one’s for you. Bet you didn’t know your dad rolled this cool. Love you guys.  I will link this up with an Open Post this week as well.  Peace, Amy


Your hair has such flair

A bounce in your step and
a plop in your pratfalls

When you’re happy, we
all know it, it’s all over
your face

same as when you’re sad

Your car is so cool and
seats thirteen if some of them
hang out the windows

And your makeup?
To die for. Drag queens everywhere
could take some tips from
your brow technique

High brow, low brow
Take a bow, o clever clown

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Mary wanted a Valentine to someone or something we cannot stand. I don’t mind telling you, it’s not just a vague dislike… clowns scare the crap out of me, always have. I once wrote a horror poem about them. Grown men in grotesque makeup, falling on their butts and getting WAY too close to little kids for my comfort… The balloon animals that always managed to explode near me…   Bozo? Yikes! Amy