A HAIR’S BREADTH AWAY
Funny how the mind works. Dreamt of Elvis last night. We were in a barber shop and he was going to cut my hair. I don’t remember going there for that, but do recall that a friend sent me an Elvis clip of an old outtake, and I enjoyed it. I guess my deeper mind employed it to bring the King to me in a moment of midnight reverie.
He looked good, jet black hair and black leather jacket. Didn’t speak at all, as I recall, had a mouthy little agent-type doing the talking for him. All I wanted was to hear him sing. His handler popped a CD into the barber shop player. The King told me to sing, but I didn’t know the song. I, or it, had been too long off the charts to make it work. I woke up feeling like a jerk.
Funny how the time works too. Chronological years cannot tell the tale in full. We hold our dearest and our best, the things that make us us, as a jewel, shining beyond the bounds of life and death. We go to sleep, and take a breath, and they are there, visiting from everywhere, warning us, making sense, removing or constructing a roadway or a fence, giving us a fresh evidence of what is foul or fair, or simply waiting with their scissors sharp, to cut our hair.
G.M.S.
No comments:
Post a Comment