Why It Matters

 

 

Race With the Devil

Elvis was back in
Black leather,
Sex,
Nerves pulled taut as
Braided cables, the
Whole thing boosted years ago
From sweet Gene Vincent.

The King wasn’t eating yet like
Life was one long
Birthday party or
Throwing pills down
His golden throat but
Vincent was
Drunk
Bloated
Glassy-eyed
A ghost of Elvis
Yet to come.

He Be Bop A Lula’d
All the way to
Germany to
Make a buck
Find love
Hide from the tax man
Hole up in a hotel with
Women and
Pills and
Voice still sharp as a
Stilleto.

Das Blue Caps were rentals,
Paul Raven not yet
Gary Glitter, not yet
Evil incarnate, just a
Teddy boy chasing birds.

Elvis shook and swayed and
Millions watched from glowing
Boxes like the one that
Sweet Gene stared through,
Rotten leg raised and stinking,
Whiskey fumes curling around
His gentle country breath.

Raven fluttered through the
Hotel door, caught a
Bird’s eye glimpse of
Vincent drifting lower.

The Luger sparked and spit,
Door splinters flew into
Raven’s greasy crest.

The bullet chased him
Back to England,
One of many Raven dodged
Before they plucked his silly
Cockscomb and stuck him
In a cage.

Sweet Gene held on for
Three more years before
His gut exploded in a
California trailer park.

If I get through this
I’m going to be
A better man
He promised but the

Devil still had work for Glitter,
Wasn’t ready yet to cash
The King’s comeback check, so
The Screaming End blazed the trail
One last time.