If There Truly Was a Never Never Land

"My imagination was only curtailed by streetlights coming on..."

I came across a story about the second star to the right and now I can not stop thinking about the possibility of such a place. An island of adventure and wondrous things where I can be a kid for as long as I like. Solid friendships held together by the bonds of our imaginations. Being able to truly be free of those things that pull me down. To even fly above all the issues that as an adult weighs me to the ground. 

To be a real boy enjoying in the spontaneity of my decisions and not worry about the consequences, or the troubles that come with them. I recall a story of a wooden liar who had the same proposal and was turned into a donkey. Like he there is also a joy in learning from my mistakes.  To grow in understanding, but still retain a part of me that is held fast in the simple joys of simple things.

So I find myself drawn to stories of happy thoughts, crickets, and pirates.  To live carefree and joyful all the time would be delightful.  The possibilities of no more bills and the want of nothing is a much better story line then monthly payments to overcharged cards and large amounts of income used to pay for insurance I can not afford to use.  To draw away from all the troubles that make my adult self look towards the ground and kick at the dust. 

Still I believe that the directions are a bit muffled.  I remember a place such as mentioned, but I never had to go past a star.  It was at the corner of 12 Ave and 157 Street in Queens.  The method of travel was nothing more then an old refrigerator box placed in the front yard.  That box could become anything I wished it to be, but mostly it was childhood.  It represented a carefree way of thinking.  It represented games like "Mother May I, Freeze Tag, Red Light Green Light", and the ever so popular "Hide and Seek."  It represented youth in the form of summer vacation, ice cream trucks, old scary houses, and playing games in the rain. A youth that sometimes I feel was lost, existed in such a box, on such a street, during such time. My imagination was only curtailed by streetlights coming on and I had to run inside before the shouts of my mother made it to ears.  Soon my imagination would be put to rest and my dreams would take over.  I like to think it was all in preparation for the next days adventures, as long as the cardboard box was still there. 

Now many years later I crave such places and I have none. My thoughts are being stifled by a desk. It seems to shove my imagination to the back of my mind as more pressing issues come forward. I want to run and grab the couch cushions and a blanket to build a fort or an island, maybe even the inside of a whale. I don’t, maybe I am scared. Instead I will try to live on these pages and use my words to build up walls around me. Protected I will use story to attack those things that wish me to forget what I was. I must do it this way because I am pretty sure that I would probably be arrested if I jump around wearing green tights yelling "Get Some Fairy Dust and Think Happy Thoughts."

-Dennis Birtch