Lost In Graceland

Elvis wanders through Graceland,
wonders why the rooms are roped off,
why strange women in Elvis tees,
scarves over their curlers, walk
through his house weeping.
He's tired of hearing Hound Dog
on the speakers, could care less
if he's anyone's Teddy Bear.

He wonders where Priscilla is,
why Lisa Marie looks right through him.
He doesn't get the supermarket jokes,
the bobbing Elvis dolls or why busloads
of strangers light candles outside every day.
He hears rumors he's dead but figures
the Colonel hid him, cooked that up for publicity.

Sometimes he takes a Caddy
out onto the Memphis streets,
shark fins cleaving a slipstream
gobbling the memories behind him.
He dreams of his sweet mama,
peanut butter and banana sandwiches,
quieter days in Tupelo.

Most of his sequins have fallen.
They leave a starry trail
to trace and retrace each night but
he trembles when a new one tumbles.
If they're gone before the Colonel returns,
how will he find his way?

Pris Campbell

Published in the Winter 2009 issue of From East to West

Photo of Elvis found on THIS SITE

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