Does Elvis Live?

I saw Elvis last night,
could have been him,
if I squinted,
and if he was still in hiding,
and if he had gotten into really good shape
for a man in his...80s?
Yeah, no.
Not even close.
This man and the band put on a good show
for all the sweet old ladies
and some of their daughters, too
(like my friend);
but I was there as a spectator of the spectators.
I was not there because of a deep love of the first American heartthrob musician.
I was there because a friend offered me free tickets.
I was there to feel the music thrumming from the stage -
(that bass player was cute)
and to drift along in my own thoughts,
imagining what it must have been like
to have been a teenager when Elvis hit the scene,
and wondering how it must have felt
to carry a torch for him for 50, 60, 70 years.
I have not really been much for celebrity crushes;
I prefer dreaming of a real person -
the real-er the better.
I prefer imagining...lips on earlobs, hands sliding under shirts...
the real world is so much closer to the buffet of sensory possibilities -
touching, tasting.
Ahem, I digress...
Watching this man on stage,
wooing the sweet ladies who'd loved Elvis in the goddamned NINETEEN FIFTIES,
I wondered how they could possibly feel anything
in this moment
besides sadness and regret.
Such a pale immitation this man was,
and I was about a yard away from him,
but even from the back of the house,
you could see that he was smiling like the Las Vegas strip.
He was giving them the show they craved,
but I couldn't buy what he was selling.
I think I would have liked it better if he'd just looked like himself,
and skipped the, "Thankya vera  much" schtick.
It felt so hollow, so unsatisfying.
In 30 years, will I go see a Nirvana tribute band
and swoon over the man in the blonde wig and plaid flannel shirt?
I don't think so.
But maybe my generation's answer to that will be to have a hologram of Kurt on stage,
or better yet,
a Virtual Reality game in which I can make out with him.
I may not have been much for celebrity crushes,
but I could watch footage of that man all day
and it wouldn't fill the cavern of grief I feel for all his lost poetry.

But, I had a lovely time,
and it reminded me that I should get back to writing that book,
and the other one.
First, I should finish reading those Elvis biographies.
And maybe go find a hammock to lie in.