A Night at the Circus

The night Elvis died on the toilet he was like a circus without wild animals. A neighbor’s child was able to crawl out, I don’t know how. One man painted his beard blue and stuck gold stars on it. He kept begging for water in a faint voice.  I often see him in dreams now. And yet I have no idea who he was. He was doing strange hand movements, almost as if he were signaling a UFO to land here. God, I was stupid. I should have said something. Ordinary people have put on two-dollar hazmat suits and started gathering the debris.