Fast Food for Elvis Every inch a hound dog, Hot dog, Shaking his hips Through army days. Then, a lonesome night, He pastes tinfoil on the windows And dreams - Priscilla plays in the garden, Waiting to grow up. He strums a guitar, Strains his neck To see a moon, A blue moon, Shades and lightens. A song for Gladys Plays in the background, "That's When Your Heartaches Begin". So true He'd record it twice. Then like a party balloon, All glitter and gloss, It's over. Sensation And it is the same with love. Yes. You will never sleep again As the bell rings over and over And they pawn your bed. The same with love. It means You might never eat again When you are trapped in the desert With not a leaf, a berry, a raindrop - Yes, with love. And where are you, Twisted, without pride, When they have pulled marrow From your spine, love, the same, As if you have lain down in the mud And taken her foot in your face. Yes. It is the same with love, The little warning sign that sparks No alert, brings no rescue. You might rush up a dozen flights To find me. I won't be there And it is the same with love. It Can't be found, it is not a toy, You can't package it, toss and Strain it with spices, curry it. It takes favour and flavour To pepper a meal, shake it up. It is the same with love. Bubble Blonde By the time I get to Marilyn, there is a soap-opera of sound flashing by my unshielded eyes - a panic, cars scraping their brakes. Marilyn lies in her perfumed sheets, sparse hair on her thigh, body cooling like a newly-set jelly, her hair like a white meringue. I hand the crew iced tea, their breath mingling with the drizzle. As they chat, baby birds with piercing eyes, I move the bottle away, punch up the pillows, try to close her eyes. (c) 2003 Louise Cole |
Louise Cole Juggles her creative output with work in a busy university library. Her first book, Jewelled Tree, was published by Spout in Huddersfield in 2000. |
