I have seen Elvis in my mirror...
I have seen Elvis in my mirror.
Not the blue-black-haired sexy Elvis:
piercing eyes, taut skin reflecting the neon of a setting southern sun,
but the other one.
Fat, pig jowled.
cheeks like slabs of something dead.
Eyes like fish,
surprised to be set in something quite so bloated.
Left in a jar too long.
My lips hang loose
as if too tired to utter
I might choke on a cheeseburger.
My eyes and above,
they look defeated,
They've had one piece of bad news too many.