Am I the last person to learn that prolific children's poet Shel Silverstein had another life as a writer of decidedly adult content? Feels like it! Besides writing Johnny Cash's hit song "A Boy Named Sue," he started his career at Playboy, where he continued to contribute until his death.

To me, his poems were the epitome of childhood simplicity and playfulness. So, I was surprised to read one of his lesser-known poems, "The Perfect High." With Silverstein's trademark couplets beating like nursery rhymes, the tale of Gimmesome Roy searching for the perfect high reads like a twisted parody of his children's poems. Here's my favorite part of the poem:



"What's happening, Fats?" says Roy with joy, "I've come to state my biz.
I hear you're hip to the perfect trip. Please tell me what it is.
For you can see," says Roy to he, "that I'm about to die,
So for my last ride, Fats, how can I achieve the perfect high?"

"Well, dog my cats!" says Baba Fats. "here's one more burnt-out soul,
Who's looking for some alchemist to turn his trip to gold.
But you won't find it in no dealer's stash, or on no druggist's shelf.
Son, if you would seek the perfect high — find it in yourself."

Did you know about Shel's, um, versatility? Are you surprised?


Love This Email Print Facebook Stumble It!