Elvis in Elvisland

by Corey Mesler

 

"The cacophony of voices that have joined together to create
a chorus of informed opinion, uninformed speculation,
hagiography, symbolism, and blame, can be difficult to
drown out, but in the end there is only one voice that counts."
--Peter Guralnick

 

Let's imagine this:
He's on the set of Clambake
or Stay Away, Joe.
He's lip-synching something
insipid about uh huh
there goes my dream girl.
He's barely hitting the marks,
barely feigning singing,
barely there. He's running
on hematic speed. Let's imagine
it strikes him that he's
just sausage now, that he's
lost something, given
it away, or had it stolen,
his life-force, his soul.
Now, let's say, that he doesn't
give a shit because he's
part of a money machine,
a vital part. The enabler.
It's a believable parable.
But, it's not true. We know
it's not. He felt himself
die a little bit on
every cheesy set, a little
bit during every perfunctory
song: The man who invented
something startling,
a long time ago, in a little
alchemical shop called Sun,
in a mystical time called
The Fifties, in a corrupt and enchanted
fiefdom called America.

 

© 2005 Corey Mesler
originally pulished in Dead Mule

Corey Mesler (Elvis in Elvisland, Publisher) has published in numerous journals and anthologies. His novel, Talk: A Novel in Dialogue, was released in 2002. He also has a number of poetry chapbooks available. In 2005, his second novel, We Are Billion-Year-Old Carbon will be released. He also claims to have written, "Incense and Peppermints." With his wife, he runs Burke's Book Store in Memphis TN.