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.
