poor elvis

I flicked on the radio, my eyes on the traffic light.
Elvis was in full cry.
He sang about being caught in a trap and at first, I felt kind of sorry for him. By the third chorus my sympathies had dried up like a hot August afternoon.
Suspicious Minds has a nice be-boppy rhythm that is surprising happy sounding considering the lyrics. I did consider the lyrics though, and decided that blazing heat and heavy traffic were enough all by themselves to give me a bluesy feeling without Elvis.
The miles flashed by.
The air-conditioner did what it could and I soon stumbled up the stairs of home.
A fan, a cold drink and supper fresh and summery were there.
And company blithe and bonnie.
Poor Elvis.