Poetry: Pretending To Be Elvis

For someone who
couldn’t have salt,
she sure ate the bacon.
One last little death,
she’d say,
a meal at a time.

She passed eating bacon bits
in her ice cream,
little sighs warming
the cold in her belly,
while she peeked
at the neighbors’ TV
through their downstairs
window,

pretending to be Elvis,
leaving the building.

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