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Bonobocare
or
The Children's Crusade

Dreamed 2015/8/8 by Chris Wayan
for anyone who's ever turned a trick,
plus J. Swift for his Modest Proposal

I'm downtown seeking a purple bike--public, free--
ubiquitous these days. Run into Mom. She waves
alleyward, vaguely--"I saw one there." But her way
leads me to a plaza rainbowed in bikes--unclear
which are free. It's the people purpled here--
violent violet tees on half the youth or more,
Meaning I'm a public whore: free to be
Ridden guiltlessly & left. See,

Bonobocare's arrived at last! A federal plan to calm
raspy public with free love. Well, subsidized. Because
free poon doth soothe the militant breast, doth make
estrangéd voters swoon. Chimp rage? Bonobo calm!
And here comes Mom,

in her pimpmobile pink-finned. "Hop in!" She waves
at purple bikes for me to ride--& purple girls. To ride.
They are hot, but letting Mom pick hookers feels
creepier than wheels.

A teeshirt crowd-current sweeps me round a hill. We
slosh into Skateboard Park. Deluxe! No mere
halfpipes here; a chain of Giotto grottoes, each
centered on a stony crag an expert can
zoom up to hang, spin 540, drop. Not timid me! I
skate up a shin knee-high--dare not that thigh--
half an eye out for Mom.

A ranger safety-lectures. Not on skating, but on
What most of us streetkids have chosen for career:
We're the newly-legal whores for Bonobocare!
Not federal workers yet, just contractors, mer-
iting no vacation, sickleave, care: just momentar-
y friends with(out) benefits.

Surprisingly, our ranger shrugs
at teen drunks, bareback sex & drugs.
No, she decries the fat bonuses offered for
camp-followers in the latest war! Mere
sex-risk is zip beside the Hazard Champ:
War--and two ugly struggles flare beyond the hill;
temptation's real. Same sex for double pay? Tsk!
We're young. Discount the risk.

Our free purple bikes let us flock to those wars.
Oopsy consequence. On the Kids' Crusade pours!
Curious I join thong-throng, though I don't aspire to be
One more war whore.

Child prostitute parade! Wave banners, decorated in
body paint, ribbons, still-innocent(ish) skin.
Some purplebike, some dance, a few astraddle on
sleek unicorns, calm miniphants. All fey, all gone
gold-rushing off to war. But not to kill, at least.
We're off to fuck. For bonuses. And peace.


Dream sketch by Wayan. Click to enlarge.
NOTES IN THE MORNING
Dream sketch by Wayan. Click to enlarge.


LISTS AND LINKS: bikes - moms and parenting (helicopter or not) - sports - guardians - sexploitation & prostitution - child sex - street kids - outsiders and cast-outs - parades, fairs, circuses - nudity & exhibitionism - elephants - unicorns - Only in San Francisco - war - politics (sorry, no list for 'healthcare policy dreams' yet) - Obama, Barack - dream poetry - dream humor - pencil dream art

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