Elvis Is In the Building

he pretends to be
Someone Else
for a living
slicked-back hair
jumpsuits open
down to this belly button
"thank you,
thankyouverymuch"

old women swoon
decorated in Fan Club buttons
screaming, pleading
arms reached out
for a touch, a kiss
a drop of sweat

it's like watching the dead
come back to life
that unspoken fantasy
of getting to see
your beloved
in the flesh
one more time
to touch dreams
and aching memories

my daughter loves him
because she loves
who he pretends to be
a man who never lived
in her lifetime
but whose spirit
ignites her senses
whose music
feeds her heart with joy
whose brokenness
ignites her compassion

for a couple of hours
she gets to step out
of time
that so often breaks our hearts
she gets to dance
on the wings of spirit
and imagine her beloved
her angel
seeing her with physicality
and receiving
her adoration.

pmr