Dreams

	Coming Out Cops and rusty old trucks on the prowl at night. I hide in my house. My house seems like it's made of nothing but windows. I hide. I dream a dream brought on by the guilt I feel at leaving my dog, my decrepit old consumptive dog, outside to lie on the wet and cold grass - to face the danger. Down into the skyscraper tunnel we go. It's a seamy underworld life filled with secret rooms, deals going down and slinky, very slinky girl-creatures. They wear the kinkiest of kinky clothes: light rubbery slips that cling to your body like condoms, frills and furs that tickle. At the bottom of this cobweb world they lie in wait for you sheathed in a protective condom tip. It's a trap, of course, and before you know it you and another guy - your 'buddy' - are caught wearing those clothes. Those slinky kinky clothes: light rubbery slips that stick to your skin like condoms, frills and furs that tickle and feeeelll gooood. You run down a corridor and the world has changed for you. You're in the business area of this skyscraper tunnel now and you run one way while your buddy runs another way. Is this feeling worth it? you say to yourself as you enter a restaurant bar filled with people. Your buddy has found you and follows you in. He knows what to do to allay the suspicion, the embarrassment... "Hi there, gorgeous! I love your clothes! They look so slinky, so kinky!" Play the extrovert transvestite game. Take no notice of them and they'll take no notice of you. It's the only way out of here; comfortably out of the dream.