In
a paradise of acronyms, BONZO dreams of the ultimate banana hanging
like a WIMP within HOPE
of his beaming arms. A real WACKO
of an image consummated, seemingly, in a SAFE place. But when he wakes, the impulse keeps
its inertia, refusing to STOP.
Even
a protective device can shield
the passage of life in a venture of miscarried fantasies of
security designed with no strings attached.
High on lasants and lucrative grants, an incoherent light in
their eyes, scientists dazzle the darkest of political aims.
