When I noted
Elizabeth Taylor
was rather pretty,
in 44’s National
Velvet,
you said she’s
a little young.
Yet she wasn’t
a little young
for the Depression,
Edward’s abdication,
a Great War’s
2nd coming ,
that Hiroshima
happened
at the dawn of
her teenaged years.
In reality
she was my elder,
since I was birthed
in ’64, 32-times
my age the night
the Beatles
hit it big ,
had watched them sing
on Sullivan, a glass
of gin & tonic
in her hand,
a cigarette
hanging loosely
in the other.
Indeed it’s turnabout,
that she was the one
who might have been
a robber of the cradle,
had I expressed
such thoughts
at the time.
Case-in-point:
the first time
you and I had met
was back in '95,
while she’d been
in a marriage
for the eighth
and final time,
a wonder
of the wedding
world.
And now be
rest assured, I will never
utter a word
about Lolita, portrayed
by 15-year-old
Sue Lyon, her character
even younger,
will only shower disdain
on Humbert Humbert,
that despicable
man who envisioned
a fatal ploy,
played by the veteran
James Mason,
who suffered so many
glares
for years to come—
while I
was just a twinkle
in my mother’s
future eye,
have long-since
learned the perils
that come with love
for an older woman.
Andreas Gripp
November 20, 2024
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