2000/Elvis

I missed Elvis’ birthday.
Did nothing to celebrate,
not even listen to the new tapes
I’ve never heard.
My mother said I wouldn’t be loyal,
in fifth grade when I wanted
the overnight case with photos
of him all over it.
She said I’d change my mind,
and then be stuck with that silly bag.
My best friend Boo had one I coveted.
It was one of the few things
I ever asked for,
but my mother didn’t relent.
A gray Samsonite with black & white
photos of the King,
just as he was becoming.
Boo always saved things, she said,
but her mother threw them away
as soon as she left,
the Elvis bag included.
Before she could get back
to save it.
I’ve never seen another one,
but always thought I’d buy it if I did.
I always liked the King,
at least as he was then,
Memphis Elvis I call him.
When he was still himself.
Pure.
It’s true I was embarrassed
I’d ever been an Elvis fan
in the Vegas years.
Though his voice still held me.
But once he died I could go back,
and hold him in that place
when he and I and rock & roll
were just becoming.
The over night case
would have helped
with that.

1/9/00