So I waved at Elvis
And he lifted his guitar
In salute and surprise.
It’s a rare thing
But sometimes
On the drive into town
I’ll spot him
On his front lawn
Resplendent
In flares
But I’ve never stopped
Never acknowledged
His presence
Except as a joke
Shared with others
Who live in this town.
I’m sure long
After he’s gone
His legend
Will live on
And I thought
Maybe I would
Regret having never
Stepped out
Of propriety.
So just this once
I got brave
And I waved.

Stock photo

Delivery

There's a vehicle it comes up
The driveway and stops
At my door
He gets out
Slides the back
Of the van open
Stands, back to me.
Waiting in open door
I know what’s coming
Then sign to confirm that
The package arrived.
Turning I move to go inside
But on a whim turn
And call out to him:
“Do you feel like Santa
at this time of Year?”
Giggling quietly I carry
The box inside, suddenly
Struck by the meaning:
A package expected
Even needed
But not ever wanted
And wished that no child
Or home had to get
Diabetic supplies.