Leave him alone

They plan to put you on display this week like some political maverick or religious pundit. Your loving family; your father's already talking about a record company he wants to start. They haven't put you in the ground yet, but they'll never let you rest.

Everyone else seems considerably more upset than some of those closest to you. There's a hint to where your famous idiosyncrasies took root....right there. Up close and way too personal. Who can be surprised at the way you were?

If there ever was a human dichotomy, you were it. The Sybil of the music world...the harrowing childhood that created two different people from shoe to soul. A dynamic, unparalleled personality on stage. An unhappy, lonely man-child off stage. How it must have hurt.

Did you have a friend? One? Maybe among the few who haven't turned this into a photo op yet...to get on air and tout their friendship with you, the man they 'knew so well.'

But they never knew you in life as they'll know you now. You'll be a major source of profit for years to come. You'll be exploited to the hilt and then some. Millions will be made on your death. Like Presley, you will be studied, examined, explained, vilified, made sport of, missed , remembered, loved. Your music will play forever like an old 45, as will your fame and your infamy, truth or not. You will be more spoken of now than ever.

They say you knew how you would die. What kind of life is that?

How can we not be moved, even though our materialistic society is filled with ego-centric , superficial people. Millions of them. They'll remember you, one way or another. Maybe for your quirks, your genius, your fashion, your money, your voice, your excesses, your musicality, your misfortune, your shyness, your empire, your moonwalks, your conflicts, your globality, your humanitarianism, your family, your talent, talent, talent.... They will remember you.

But right now, you're waiting for the peace you'll never get.

What you must think of us now.