Elvis Is Dead

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If you tell me to write a poem
With the title Elvis Is Dead
I will think of mountains
Or pasta machines
Carburetors
Thigh high stockings
IKEA furniture assemble instructions
Freshly pressed blouses

I will desperately want to write
About the sound a wave makes
Revlon’s spring nail color collection
Or the way a baby’s head smells
Arugula
The art of cobbling
Sugar dusting a table top
Super Freak personalized ringtones

I’ll resist writing
That the King is dead
And now so is the Prince

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 24

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