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Friday, August 17, 2007

But on the same day…

August 15th: Three pygmy killer whales
mysteriously landed on the shore of Myrtle Beach
when they were supposed to be
proudly growling in the depths of Japan or Hawaii,
an ominous sight I could see.

As they were too sick to go on living
(most likely products of our precious toxic pollutants),
they were put to sleep, sadly unable to convene
with thousands of the King’s fans
for the Candlelight Ceremony
in Graceland, Tennessee.

You see, the 16th marked the King’s 30th year
of death (or disappearing act) brought about
by his furious, enraged heart
over his 14 drugs—“something
for everything,” in the King’s thinking.

But on the same day came the wrath
of tropical storm Erin in Texas,
drenching, soaking the spongy land.
(And the Gulf Coast braces
for hurricane Dean it now faces.)

But on the same day came the wrath
of a 7.9 quake in Peru, ironically showing no mercy
on 300-year-old San Clemente Church in Pisco
where the celebrating family that was bereaved
in an unkind grave joined the deceased.

But on the same day came the wrath
of old Crandall Canyon in Utah
as it caved in on the rescuers
still searching for the six missing miners
probably hiding yonder.

You see, the King was a good man.
He could’ve come back from the grave.
(He could’ve come out of hiding.)
But on the same day came the wrath.
Underground he must’ve been so sad,
begging for “A big hunk o’ love”
for the world left above.

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