there is a man who walks around town
who thinks he is Elvis.
It is a cliché, I know, the crazy man who thinks he is Elvis.
But this guy is for real, she says.
He wears a white low-cut button suit, chest hairs showing,
and those 70’s flared pants.
Sometimes, he even flaunts a red cape.
He wears a black wig that each week
the barber pretends to cut.
(That kind of compassion is rare!)
Everyone shows him kindness.
He gets free day-old muffins at the doughnut shop,
and when Joyce is working, she throws in a coffee.
How cool it would be to walk around in white,
feeling like a king, never paying for breakfast,
everyone smiling at you, treating you as a rarity.
People take pictures, videos, come up to him
and ask him to sing. He never does,
just lifts the one side of his lip
and dramatically flips his red velvety cape
purchased years ago
at the local used-clothing store.
© 2018 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Outlaw Poetry” August 2018
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: