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A Shrine To Elvis

She asked me if I had the time
To see her lounge-room Elvis shrine
In her 30's – kinda cute
We drove to her place in my ute
The house was on an acre block
Fibro front porch parking lot
Her daughter – young and tartly bland
Was pregnant from a one night stand
Her son – now twenty - moved away
When the drugs consumed him and they say
He’d hit his mum a hundred times
For objecting to his cocaine lines
But Elvis’ shrine stood resolute
With pics of Elvis in gold suits
He is my hero she then said
While inviting me into her bed
He was a man that knew his way
I'd sleep with him most any day
But now he is in lame’d heaven
You must do this – so please pretend
And croon his songs while we make love
Me on my back while up above
Resplendent on my ceiling tiles
Is more of Elvis and his style
I looked close at the Elvis shrine
His hair his pout – this look not mine
I asked her why she loved The King
She softly said that anything
Was better than the life she led
So when with men within her bed
She had to dream that it was him
Who hugged her kissed her slid within
A mirror ball then caught my eye
While hound-dog played on her hi fi
I felt like a human sacrifice
A feeling i found none too nice
At this I drove off in the night
Something didn’t seem quite right
I look like Buddy Holly see
Not like her Elvis – that ain’t me.

poem by David Keig
Added by Poetry Lover
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