I think there must have been
something that led up to this, some
forgotten back-story, as they call it,
since I woke with Elvis Presley’s
shirt, neatly folded, in my hands.
It had one of those Nehru necks
and was beautifully embroidered
around the upper chest with pastel
flowers. This was a fund-raising
event, I understood, for charity,
perhaps, or a political cause, since
my friend Michael had brought it
in as a donation. Since Michael
has been a professional musician
in his time, I guessed he once
had played in Elvis Presley’s
band and that Elvis had given him
this flowered shirt as a gesture
of appreciation. It was a mystery
to me why my friend Michael
had decided now to part with it
no matter what the circumstance,
and I woke up thinking, this shirt
must surely have both sentimental
and serious monetary value, having
once belonged to Elvis, how strange
to be sacrificing it in this way;
but then I’ll admit that my friend
Michael was, as indeed was Elvis,
a bit of a mystery to me anyway.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Elvis Presley's Shirt
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poems
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