The Evolution of Rock 'n' Roll

When Elvis left the federal building
he was humming in Seconal haze,
casting glittered shadows on the flag.
Now the Graceland bathroom is full
of booming babies, the company offices
automated, the concert stages on fire.
The King’s megawatt tower—WXYR—
toppled for a dealership, fat Hummers
line the lot, gleaming for all creation
like Brinks trucks, a choice of six colors.
Each one sold can blast a load of classics,
three hundred watts and two subwoofers,
so far off-road that nothing echoes
in the suburbs but MasterCard jingles,
elevator filler, and a suicide rag.

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