how could
hank snow
befriend elvis?
when he said
,
frets still warm
amid polite inquiry,
perspiration and smoke.
followed by the invitation
to visit seabirds
cradling rainbow buoys
and buffering
borderless trees,
he knew
their common chorus—
an appalachia of birds—
often sang
with homesick voices.

the king asking,

his guitar
might become lonely
in the undercarriage
of the lanky greyhound
so far from nashville,

hank yodelling back,
’