The Crime of the Nursery Rhyme

3 03 2010

we were all children once
we played children’s games
when you live in the nursery you eat nursery rhymes

mary had a little goose and dr seusse
simple simon and beanstalk jack, thumbelina on the loose
I always wished for little miss muffet to sit on my tuffet
and had a terrible crush on Cinderella in rags
I can’t even tell you the fantasies I had about Snow White
(I was a dwarf and she had a long, full dress….you get the idea)

and when I became a young hardy boy i had a case for Nancy Drew
and then I reached adolescence and my interest grew for the tender subject
of the female breast
first it was Wonder Woman and then I hit the harder stuff.
Robert Heinlein always had naked women running around.
I dreamed of having ears like Alfred E. Neuman.

When I was fourteen, my mother let me import an issue of Playboy into my room
I told her I was only interested in the articles, and like a dummy I thought she believed me.

Then came Ian Flemming and Mickey Spillane. I couldn’t decide whether to be
as spy or a detective. So I decided to be a playboy spy detective with blousy, sloe-eyed
saxophone women dripping off my expense account and stroking my Baretta.

Fiction makes us what we are, whether it’s Tolstoy or the Simpsons.
because finally we live in a world of imagination.
the electric bill is no realer than the pushmepullyou,
the hookah smoking caterpillar, the seven headed Hydra or Dracula.

I’ve travelled the world in books, many leaved time machines
the talisman of transport to other dimensions and climes
books are the key to ancient human knowledge, pure and corrupt
and even the future unfolds in them page by page.
They can open doors for you or break you out of prison.

And it all starts with:
this little piggy went to market
and once upon a time.

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