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67 Another Bedtime Story One day you realize it. It doesn’t need to be said— Just as you turn the page—the end—and close the cover— All, all of the stories are about going to bed: Goldilocks snug upstairs, the toothy wolf instead Of grandmother tucked in the quilts, crooning closer, closer— One day you realize it. It hardly needs to be said: The snow-pale princess sleeps—the pillow under her head Of rose petals or crystal—and dreams of a lost lover— All, all of the stories are about going to bed; Even the one about witches and ovens and gingerbread In the dark heart of Europe—can children save each other?— You start to doubt it a little. It doesn’t need to be said, But I’ll say it, because it’s embedded in everything I’ve read, The tales that start with once and end with ever after, All, all of the stories are about going to bed, About coming to terms with the night, alleviating the dread Of laying the body down, of lying under a cover. That’s why our children resist it so. That’s why it mustn’t be said: All, all of the stories are about going to bed. ...

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