Jesse Garon Presley

Elvis had a twin.
A brother,
     an other.
A soul to his soul.
A Garon to his Aron.
But Garon had a life-less life.

Did Garon instead
     live to give?
Was he a
     sound-less song?
A string on a bow
     for an otherwise arrow-less Aron?

If so…

Where is the force
     Of a million soul-dead selves
Who drain their essence
     In their worth-less work,
Who glaze over their light
     In hours of vision-less television.

Do they feel as empty
     As Mrs. Presley’s childhood-less child?
Are they just pawns
     In a king-less kingdom?
Don’t they remember
     That every soul is
     A master-less master
     A prison-less prisoner
     A dancer-less dance
     With famous-less fame?