Trainer: Norm, Trainee: Me

Norm:             Tip-toe here, strangers cannot be

            beautiful. It's OK, you didn't know.

            We invented free autistic sleeping masks, so nice, we can just

            sleep forever in sleepless cities.

            Angel's? they moved into a fairytale.

            Insidious ridicule is in unsolicited kindness (she didn't mean it, insinuation was in the inflection) and all men are lascivious except Big Brother.

Me:      But I read prophetic words (permutations of letters that re-so-nate) etched raw on the bathroom stall

            "Here I disseminate that smiles and How are you?'s  from the unfamiliar make me feel             better"

                                    Loneliness fosters fiendish thought. Thank you, agents of divine intervention. 

Norm: The  author fraternizes with rebel angels, trust no-one

            Real Angels?  I heard they smuggle rapture in daylight.

            Where? Oh, Unity and Genuine domicile the room under the stairs (light stops by to     tease). The estranged aunt and uncle of celebrity Love.

            What? no language is a stratagem to clothe nakedness, modesty you know?

                                    Is it midnight yet? Where is everyone on the crowded and desolate sidewalk?

            Angel's? They're not here.


- Mike MacNeil