Elvis has left the building

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, were it not for the ominous sounds he was emitting every time the key reached for ignition. 

Sounds to scare the gargoyles set in stone and groans to declare protest against attempts to change it’s sedentary state every time, didn’t do much to instill confidence in my partner of his reliability to be my chariot anymore. 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, were the world to not have shunned the strings of love for the contemporary and much loved “green” laws of emissions. 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, were the rules of the world not putting him in a scrap yard in two years. 

Were Co2 not have been a thing that fills chatter into the bubbles left by champagne of the polite society, I would still be sitting pretty, whenever time allowed between diapers for mad capers with my hair fluttering in the breeze in Elvis, till he spluttered to a halt.(love blinds my judgment here clearly) 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, him and his shining midnight blue colours that faithfully lit up in the blinkers when I roamed lost in parking lots. His chirruping honk, my guiding light. Homing back into the cocoon that smelt of my different perfumes over the last 13 Years. 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, were my partner to have shared this blind faith that Elvis wouldn’t defy all odds and not splutter to a halt on me when I have him powered up. 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go were I not have a little human being trialing car seats like she was Goldilocks. Making the words of the husband echo in mine along with nostalgic flashes. 

” he needs to go” were the words he had said. ” he needs to go” now mimicked in mine. 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, were the guy taking him from us not been a doctor of cars. 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, were this lovely guy not have had three children to jump in Elvis’s back seat. 

I wouldn’t have let Elvis go, without extracting promises in blood that, Elvis would always shine. 

(ignoring the two years' time line) 

And as all lovers bore with poetry at the end of their love stories, or sit spouting words of wisdom waving their bottled tipple into ears that have fleeting interest, my minds thinking verses too. (minus the tipple but then maybe let me addle the mind a bit too.) 

‘Que Sera Sera ,what will be will be’ sang my mom when I was little, and I sing that to my daughter today.  

Tides change the maps in sand, sand shifts in time without the tides, and the times have tided over into a phase of my life that needs firmer grounds to tread on. 

Hence honking away in another's arms, Elvis has Left the building.