Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time I fell in love.

I was dazzled by a man whose words moved me and whose cute smile made me swoon.

My parents thought I was crazy, they said that you were too different from me. That I was too young to feel this way.

But it didn't matter to me. I'd lay in my room and fantasize about the two of us dancing together. Making everyone in the room jealous because we were the best dancers in the entire room.

Your pain was my pain. I know what it felt like to be humiliated by my daddy: my daddy beat me with the belt, too.

When tragedy struck you I cried for you. I prayed that weren't burned too badly. Mom and dad thought I was being silly.

But they didn't know!

They didn't know how much you meant to me and how much I adored you.

And now, here I sit thinking about that girl with the silly crush wondering whatever happened to you?

I stood by your side when they snickered about the elephant man bones, the hyperbaric chamber and Bubbles the Chimp.

But, Jesus Juice Michael? Inviting little boys into your bed?

I'm probably minutes away from hearing the verdict on your trial wondering whatever happened to the dashing black man in the white tux on the cover of my Thriller album.

Was it the fire, Michael?

Did catching your jerry curl on some misaimed fireworks spark your need to create Neverland?

Here it is, the verdict . . . not guilty on all counts.

And, this makes me even sadder because I just don't get it Michael.

Do you really see yourself as some sort of Peter Pan? Are you that broken that a world of fantasy is the only one you can stand to live in?

I don't get why you invite boys to sleep in your bed.

But what I REALLY don't get is the parents that would allow a sleepover at your house. Did you threaten them or were they just opportunists biding their time and waiting to stike?

I just don't know, Michael.

I just don't know.