Flat cap cartoon images
Suddenly materialise in his mind.
Same to are black and white
Scenes of young Elvis
Swaying and singing silently
In front of mutely hysterical girls.
He can’t hear them. He bring the watcher and not Elvis P.
He can see the success, before he sees
Priscilla and then Elvis’ fat years.
People concentrate, fixate,
Underline and sigh at E’s failures.
They poke their noses into others lives, like curtain twitchers, or wrinkled voyeurs peering over the garden fence to catch a neighbour out.
They laugh at the funny pages, but
They slowly shake their heads
At a one of a kind’s decline.
He see Elvis and all the other faces
Who have changed the direction
Of the Earth’s revolution.
The Lennon and the Nixon;
The Ben Johnson and the Ali;
The Thatcher and the Ghandi;
The mother and the murderer;
The good and the bad.
He strips away the bad and
Smiles at the good:
The game changers who
Left the room elated at their appearance.
He doesn’t see their decline.
They have left to many jewels
To have their memories sullied.
He doesn’t want to be them.
It’s not in his DNA, anyway.
He won’t give up trying, but
There’s a portion of his brain
That rationalises thusly:
There are beautiful people,
Aesthetically stunning folk,
Whose genes luckily fell.
The same with genius.
He puts down his pen,
Allows his eyes to bounce around the room,
Opens his ears to the hissing breeze outside and
The petty squabbles down the street,
Before seeing the image of
A man under a flat cap once more.
“It had to come from somewhere, didn’t it?” He muses to himself, in a voice inside his mind that’s his and someone else’s. “The Ganges don’t just flow from a cup, after all.
What is that smell of burnt toast?!”
And with that he is free once more.