MAGIC, ONCE

As a child he had a magical power.
He didn’t like to use it, didn’t want others
to know he had it, certainly couldn’t share it.
He wasn’t certain when it began to fade,
but he noticed the power diminished as he grew,
as he learned more about the world,
and there was absolutely nothing he could do
to stop or even slow its diminution.
He knew he would miss it, knew he
would always remember it even when
there was no longer a trace of it.
He stopped thinking about it as life
engulfed him in its ever-present moments.
Every once in a while he would pause
and remember it with fondness for
innocence is not something you lose willingly.

REALITY RHYMES

Little Jack Horner
sat in a corner
suffering from a severe
narcissistic personality disorder.

Old King Cole
was a merry old soul
and a merry old soul was he,
until he died from a combination
of cirrhosis of the liver
and emphysema.

Little Miss Muffet
sat on a tuffet
eating her curds and whey,
and had a blood cholesterol
count of well in excess of 250.

Four and twenty blackbirds
baked into a pie,
and when the pie was opened
the animal rights league
protested mightily.

The king was in his counting house
counting all his money,
the queen was in her parlor
eating bread and honey,
the people were in the streets
demanding social justice.