I paid the entrance fee
To Elvis Aaron Presley’s mortal
Grave, there in Memphis, Tennessee.
What did I learn there?
He was thee and me.
I tried to walk down
To the sylvan river Wye.
But the field was muck
And mined with cow dung,
And clouding the air, flies.
Inevitably we hit a roadblock
When we start chasing dreams.
Then it’s a matter of
Surrendering and turning back or
Smashing through the goddamn thing.
Where there’s smoke there’s fire,
Where there’s fire there’s ash.
The universe is apparently expanding.
Time waits for no man.
That’s about all we know.
Dad and I were estranged,
As it had to be.
Often, I wondered about him,
And he, probably, about me.
Better than the unfought fights …
Kevin Brennan is Editor of The Disappointed Housewife. Pentagraphs are poems of five lines, five words per line.