One Night With You, Dear Elvis, In Your Palatial Tomb by Misti Rainwater-Lites

I know you refuse to eat pussy and you're too close to my kin
to get me wet so sex is not what I am here for.
I like the lighting in this place.
I'm liking the gaudy pink and red chandeliers, the glowing
Christmas angel eyes, the serpents hissing neon fountains
filled with sultry mermaids and Vegas sharks.
You guessed it, guy, I'm here for the ambiance.
There's enough room up in this bitch for all kinds of shenanigans!
Let's play chicken with golf carts and ride the ferris wheel naked!
I love to feel the late night Memphis breeze in between my legs.
Don't I kind of remind you of the Mighty Miss A Sip?
Pass those glass bottle Dr. Peppers and bacon banana
peanut butter sandwiches, baby! Let's be goofy for a while.
I know you can break my heart with "How Great Thou Art"
and "Dixie" but I'm in no mood for deep waters tonight.
I'm waterlogged, if you must know. I'm craving mucho
ebullience, Southern eccentric millionaire style.
Where are the monkeys that run around taking off
showgirls' thongs? Where are the jam sessions with
the Mafia? Where are the diamonds and Cadillacs
and blazing marquees? I didn't drop by for silence
heavier than Gilbert Grape's mama. This chill
is too Arctic for Tennessee. It's okay, I've got a
bit of the Phoenix in my tree, too…I understand
these things, oh King. I kiss with ashes on my tongue.
I'll fly away now still singing your songs. Snobs say
I should be ashamed of such devotion. I stick out
my tongue and they shrink, terrified of the black
velvet too precious to be tagged.