Memphis, funky Memphis. Farmers who run nightclubs. Young African American girls singin’ Appalachian mountain music. Coffee houses that don’t serve coffee. Huge garages with multiple Airstream trailers, Elvis collars and ’55 Cadillacs. I gotta spend more time here!
Sun. Rises on the Million Dollar (now the billion dollar) Quartet. Resonates everywhere, still. Burns bright right through the obscenity of the bus tours.
Martin Luther King’s ghost haunts. Inspires. At every corner…how could that happen here? It did and we are somehow blessed in holding the memory clear.
Meanwhile, the Mississippi is the show of shows at sunset. Just keeps rollin’ and singin’ the tune as it carries the flotsam and jetsam to the sea. Water and sky take turns playing metaphor to the other. The only dance there is.
Worries carried away. Joy carried away. My mind carried away with excitement and wonder.
Memphis, you totally kick my ass.