Hey Diddle Diddle
The cow jumped over the moon. Or maybe not. Maybe she didn’t feel like it. Maybe she curved down on her milk-wet knees and tried to kiss the world better and maybe it tasted city-sour. Maybe she wouldn’t run away with the spoon but stood her ground instead. Maybe the fiddle was out of tune and the cat’s whiskers were plucked instead and no one, not even a little dog, laughed. What was there to laugh about anyway, behind all the untolds tucked up under the nursery rhyme?