Bedtime Stories

We never questioned whether Robinson Crusoe
was over our heads
as we scrambled for a spot
on the warm lap -
the evening throne for children
ready to soak up scenes that tomorrow's imagination
would spring from.
We groaned about
reading from the thesaurus
(which is not a dinosaur
obsessed with words,
and not even a proper bedtime book, FYI),
and begged to get on
with our friends Edwin and Lucy
as they traveled beyond
the bureau of  facts and education.

It never really occurred to us
to press pause as
The Ghost Frog
ripped out Tantor's tusk,
or The Old Man battled
the elusive marlin
through rough, cutting ropes And The Sea.
(You obviously can't pause reality, anyway...)
And in the warmth of the cramped living room we became pirates,
became rogues in coonskin crowns where
The Call of the Wild
crept through the cracks in our fortress,
and agitated excitement surrounded like a mist foreshadowing,
sank into our ears
and rooted itself in our eager souls.

We could've done
anything.