Elvis lives!
his fans used to insist
and anagrammatically speaking
so he does
they refused to recognise
the grave he occupied was his:
The King ain’t dead!
long live The King!
they daubed on walls
or words something like
and there were sightings
here there and everywhere
they just wouldn’t and couldn’t
let go and despair:
he was on Mars
he was locked
in the Bermuda triangle
he was busking in Nashville
he was reborn as his twin
he was walking on water in Galilee
he was even holed-up
down at the end of Lonely Street
in Heartbreak Hotel
sightings are rarer these days
and he’s getting on a bit
well more than a bit
to be fair
if he’s miraculously still out there
he’s in his eighties now
too wizened to wear
diamante-studded jump-suits
and flashy prizefighter belts
even so
he may yet dye his hair
only the other day
I clocked an old gent
with implausibly black locks
toothlessly humming Don’t be cool
to himself
while buying TV dinners
in the local Lidl
could he really be The King
I was moved to wonder
maybe his soul
goes marching on after all
and drew closer to ponder
if that clockwork Wooden Heart
was still beating beneath
his thermal vest
late as ever in life
I missed my moment
no sight no sound
he’d dematerialised again
all the same
just because nobody saw his face
when he spent one day
in London in 1958
doesn’t mean he wasn’t there
so I’m keeping a sharp-eye open
for any kinda Memphis fuss
Elvis Lives!
of course he rockin’ does…..
Jeff Cloves