NaPoWriMo 22

Yes, this poem may be lame, but I'm all caught up with NaPoWriMo. It's hard to concentrate when the Red Sox take a three-game series against the Yankees!!! Priorities, after all.

I invite you to scroll through the week, as well as my Poetry Thursday entry, and comment on past NaPoWriMo posts.

Elvis at the Airport

This kid was cool in the uncoolest of places
trapped between here and there.
His long, lanky legs extended into the aisle,
head propped up by his fist on the armrest.
He looks younger than I thought he ever could,
25-ish, younger than ’68 Comeback Special Elvis,
the-leather-suit-is-wearing-him Elvis.

This is Elvis before This Is Elvis,
before he really knew how cruel life could be
before the swivel would leave his hips
before Nixon left and the hostages came home.
before the Wall came down and the Internet went up
before he was everywhere.

Impersonator or real deal,
he’s an airport angel bumped from his flight.
Sideburns like wings, he slouches
in a too small chair in Cincinnati
on route in this place full of comings and goings.
I ask myself—what’s that expression?
You can’t make a comeback
unless you go away.


Is this a poem you wouldn't have written without the impetus of NaPoWriMo? Sounds like there's admirable some boundary shifting going on in your writing. I wouldn't be so hard on yourself January ~ you're going at great guns and you're still pushing out great drafts with killer endings like this one :-)

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