ISSUE 3 / FALL 2005
Issue 3

Going West
by Ira Marlowe

by Sonya Hunter

by Jane Selkye

Touching down in Knoxville
by True Margrit

by Jane Selkye

Memphis was inspired by a dream I had: I was lost, and without a car. I walked into a mechanic's garage, and a young, handsome man in dirty coveralls came over to me. He asked me what I needed and I told him I was lost and needed a car to get home. I realized he was Elvis Presley, though he was just a regular guy, a mechanic. He loaned me an old Plymouth Wildcat (I think that's right), but it broke down right out of the driveway. Then he offered to drive me home, so I got into a 1960s Ford Mustang with him. He drove me home to San Francisco—I had been lost in Orange County, in Southern California...



Daddy drove a truck out of West Texas,
Met Mama in her white uniform,
They said, "I do," drove west until Paradise:
Hissing Summer lawns.

They never went to Memphis....

I've been married, been divorced
And living on plastic and caffeine:
High-nosed rhinestone chic caprice,
Let them all eat cake, I'm going to Memphis!

I could have come up this somebody
Who sees with one eye blind,
Tripped through Memphis,
Never to see it with my anemic mind.

Grandma said the truth is in the seeing,
So what if it's not there in Tennessee?
Where would it exist?

Maps and charts and legends,
They ain't nothing if you can't read the signs.
I'm going to a place you can't get to
unless you close your eyes.

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