Memphis Haiku Collection

Tonight I found a collection of stupendously precocious (lolol) poems I wrote on a trip to Memphis at age 13. Here they are, untouched, in all their prematurely cynical glory:

I’m going to Hell

I mean Memphis, in two hours

Do not raid my house.

If I don’t return

Do not mope like Charlie Brown

You’re not in my will.

I gave my pet bird

To some short college student

With lots of birdseed.

My root beer is flat

I must have left it too long

Is this relevant?

We are carpooling

With some friend of my father’s

Hope he pays for gas.

Going to find Elvis

Because Lauren told me to

Even though he’s dead.


The word has five sylables

I didn’t spell that right.

The smoky mountains

Because only you can stop

Those big forest fires.

At Holiday Inn

They give you little bottles

Of lousy shampoo.

Someone tell Kathy

Of the YMCA band

I can’t audition.

Chinese food is good

Especially the sushi

Wait, that’s Japanese.

They had a nurse shark

But everyone thought it was a

Mutant catfish.

Sushi bars are good

And so is the free soy sauce there

I spilled a bottle.

Graceland was real big

But the tour guides were real dumb

That’s why I got lost.

I did meet Elvis

He was at his old garden

Deep under the ground.

His airplane’s inside

Was covered in plastic wrap

Must have been itchy.

He had many suits

All colors, jeweled and sequined

Now worn by dummies.

The gift shop was cool

A nice place to be until

You saw the price tags.

I bought a milk-shake

It had lots of iced vanilla

My brain is frozen.

The hotel forgets

To give me a bed at night.

Now that is stupid.

I’d better go now

It’s been great writing these, but

The Simpsons is on.