I was in a home for crazies. I sat in an office of staff, watching an old b/w movie about a man who lost his soul to gambling. His brother was good. He was on a train. Fighting a war. He was all muddy--his helmet too. The staff members danced in a line. They were too busy doing nothing to eat. One said, "What do you do, get a glass of milk and oatmeal cookie before bed?" I wanted to yell, "POP TARTS" But my mouth was full. I was chewing on Dutch apple pop tarts with vanilla frosting. I ate them both. They were good. I was not a staff member. They had papers that said I was crazy and I understood why they thought that but I knew better. It just didn't concern me enough to bother with what they thought. It was not important enough. I was doing my laundry in a basement and the ??? It had been in his family for years. A watercolor I had done was on the floor. It was a study of the door to the others and how colors change the light that is on both sides. The door was cracked open but not very much. Not enough to walk through. Three colors they had out there they had over there do not exist here, so I had to use yellow and purple and green. It was a mess of a quick study to capture a thought for me--worthless to anybody else. But the big do-gooder president of the "help-the-crazies house" thought it was making good use of the crafts program. He couldn't have understood what I meant and would have just thought I was more crazy and I didn't care a flip about what he thought of me, so I didn't say anything. I got my laundry out of the dryer and tried to fold my sheet. I cannot fold it good. It was light blue and flannel and it was wadded up like a lump of scrambled eggs from McDonalds. I met a little girl and a teenage boy who was beautiful, but not pretty, and he couldn't have been a boy or a girl. I said, "Are you a boy or a girl?" And he said, "I let the boy decide that." There were 7 little newborn puppies and kittens laying on their stomachs watching TV with their eyes closed. I tried to make sure they all had room because they couldn't walk yet. I made sure they were warm. One was a tiger kitten. His name was Tiny Boy 2. He was beautiful but his head was like a grown-up tiger and could look mean. He was about 6 inches long. The girls were in combat uniform and had devices to change their voice when they spoke and some had masks on their heads, but I could tell by their hands who was who. There were hand signals to go with the words--some words were from street gangs, some from Castro's speeches and some from Martin Luther King. Evelyn was in this group, but she had been taken to jail for race mixing. I was in colored town, helping a black lady whose baby was sick. I was cleaning and doing laundry for her. We were walking down the road where Vera used to live. It wasn't paved cause it was colored town and the city didn't bother to pave those roads. Colored people didn't much have cars. They walked mostly. When we were way past the houses a black and white cop car passed us. The lady said, "You go ahead. I ain't gonna cause you no more trouble." I walked ahead, not sure if the cops had spotted me. They turned around and came back to get me. They said it was worse because I was working FOR a nigger. They took me to jail and told me to go to cell-block 5A. When the cop un-cuffed me my elbow bumped into his arms and they all screamed at me. I wondered which cell Evelyn had been in. The cells were glass booths. They took my clothes and gave me a sheet. One cell was a glassed in bathtub and the other was smaller--a shower stall. I took the bathtub so I could lay down if I could sleep, even though I was scared to sleep because I could see in their eyes. Rape was in the cards. There was no window. Since it was glassed in there was no air and when I used up the air I saw a tiny window that could only be opened if a bar was undone and water was turned on full force. The window was high and to prolong your life for air, only meant you were gonna drown later when the glassed in cell filled up, which it was doing. Then, just in time, an inmate came and unlocked my cell. Men prisoners were allowed to roam free. He had on a dirty white t-shirt with black writing and stringy red hair. The other prisoners hated him because he was a rat. He fought with me and got me down on the ground. He was on top of me and I could feel his stringy hair on my face. The prisoners and cops didn't help me. My kitty came to my bed to wake me and I hit her--thinking she was the rapist.