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MARILYN DECIDES TO
GO MEET ELVIS
she was always
good at getting
whoever was near
her skin, so a
swim under the
earth's skin for
thirty-two years
takes her not
too far from
Memphis. Some
months she just
stretched out,
listened to
tree roots grow,
let underground
rivers lull her,
worms circle
her fingers like
peruvian tree
rings. No early
morning calls,
no dead lines,
no dawn shoots
at the studio. But
after thirty-two years
she wouldn't mind
a little rocka-
billy, maybe
hip-hop. She might
not have the hips
and pelvis she
used to, but
neither must that
other glitz and
glitter, gut
bucket shaker
heartbreaker
now. She could
be Norma Jean
again, they'd
get some new digs
in Grenada or
Harrisburg, let
the Mississippi
rock and roll
them to the
sea.
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